Daily war with monster girls
by Masterdude21
Summary: With the help of the highly-motivated extra-species in the military, mankind holds their own against the brutal onslaught of the Covenant. In their haste to close the gap in space warfare, ONI stumbles upon Relay 314. Even as new enemies arise, the galaxy constantly thwarts Cortana's schemes to build the Master Chief the ultimate harem. Halo/Mass Effect/Monster Musume crossover.
1. The Prologue

_**AN:**_ _This fanfiction is an AU mega-crossover between Halo, Mass Effect and the Monster Girl verse, especially the Monster Musume no Iru Nichijou._

 **~0~**

 _When humanity rose to touch the stars, they did so with the help of the dozens of Liminal Species that evolved with them. In 2525, when the Covenant dedicated themselves to wiping out mankind, they did so unaware of the martial prowess that the new UNSC now possessed._

 _At least, until the UNSC stumbled upon Relay 314, accidentally opening the Forerunner Cluster to the rest of the Milky Way Galaxy, dragging them along in a mad scenario of being strangled by Brutes and Elites on one side and being strangled by red tape on the other._

 **~0~**

 **The Prologue**

 _ **2012**_

To end decades of high tensions and armed conflicts, the Interspecies Exchange Bill is successfully passed between nations to condone the cultural exchange between non-human Liminal-species; races capable of communicating and interacting with humans.

* * *

 _President Barrack Obama warmly shook the hand of the graceful woman standing in front of him, smiling as he did. He liked shaking hands. It was his thing._

" _I hope we can make this treaty work out in the long term," she spoke with an accent he could not immediately place._

 _The President nodded reassuringly at the woman, calming her worrying heart with but a simple gesture, for such was the power of the President of the United States, "Yes we can."_

* * *

While this event eased the tensions between the world's superpowers, the sheer potential of the extra-species tips the scales of the power balance. War is inevitable.

 _ **2013**_

In order to further increase the ease of social integration, inter-species marriage has been legalized.

In preparation of conflicts that were certain to come, several of the more promising extra-species are employed within NATO armed forces to test their viability in combat.

* * *

 _The underground facility was one a kind. Completely hidden from prying eyes, well-funded and completely nonsensical in its construction. Seriously, what blind moron would build the mess hall right next to the firing range?_

 _The Sergeant spotted Braeburn approaching him and instantly snapped to attention, clicking his heels together and saluting. "Sergeant Mollema, sir."_

 _First Lieutenant Braeburn returned the gesture, inwardly sighing at the Sergeant's strange uniform. Were those claw marks? What had he gotten himself into? "At ease Sergeant. Where are the candidates?"_

 _Mollema visibly relaxed. "Right this way, sir. Most of the girls are still training. You'll be able to see them in action-"_

" _Training?" Braeburn interrupted the Sergeant. "I was told to expect a live demonstration of their abilities. Every soldier can do push-ups."_

" _Of course sir," replied the young Sergeant. "That's what I meant. Because of their physiology, their training differs from the other recruits. If you will follow me…"_

 _Braeburn followed the Sergeant, wishing that he had simply passed up on this assignment. But he couldn't afford to; they'd be hitting safe-houses in the middle east in a week and he needed the best of the best. Some bullshit secret NATO mission._

 _In the hopes of striking up a conversation and possibly learn more about Testing Facility 69, he asked, "So what are your assignments here, Mollema?"_

" _I'm a personal instructor, sir. My team exists out of six other instructors, each of us assigned to one of the recruits. We help…cultivate their unique abilities."_

" _Drill exercises?"_

" _Most of them love it. Building discipline takes a while, though. Most of them were civilians before joining the team."_

 _Lieutenant Braeburn nodded, understanding the difficulty of turning civvies into soldiers. "Right." As they spoke, the two of them passed by another firing range. He spotted a young woman standing near the Range Safety Officer, fumbling with a handgun. She had doubled up her ear protection, but that wasn't the most noticeable thing about her. She was wearing eye protection as well, which almost nobody here did._

 _The Sergeant stopped as well, glancing at the girl. "That's Private Osvald. She's going to be our marksman."_

" _Marksman eh?" replied Lieutenant Braeburn. He leant back against the wall and gestured at the RSO. "Show me."_

 _The RSO briefly saluted him and then returned his focus to the girl, who finished fumbling with the weapon and took aim at the targets._

" _How long have these recruits been training?" asked the Lieutenant._

 _The girl opened fire. In the span of six seconds, she nailed every single target with two hits, one in the chest and one in the head._

"' _Bout four weeks," replied the Sergeant._

 _First Lieutenant Braeburn was not going to compliment a civilian on her gunplay, even if it was better than his. Especially if it was better than this. So he merely grunted and moved on, followed closely by the Sergeant._

 _It didn't take long before they reached another training facility, though it wasn't exactly as much a facility as much as it was a boxing ring, where a very peculiar girl was facing off against four adult men at once. She wore standard military fatigues, but those did nothing to hide her completely inhuman appearance._

" _What the fuck…" The Lieutenant whispered. The girl was in possession of a long, dark-green tail and matching wings. Scales covered large patches of her visible skin and two large, curved horns protruded from her shortly-cropped hair._

 _The monster easily fought off the four soldiers in a display of martial prowess that should have been impressive in a human -_ would _have been impressive for any human, had it not been for her freakish appearance._

" _That's my girl," the Sergeant said with a faint smile. Upon seeing Braeburn's less-than-amused face, however, he quickly regained his composure. "Sir, this is Cerioth, our hand-to-hand specialist."_

" _She's got wings," Braeburn said, shaking his head in disbelieve. "The freaking girl got freaking wings. Is this some kind of goddamn zoo, Sergeant?"_

 _Sergeant Mollema didn't look like he appreciated him insulting his work like that, but the Lieutenant didn't particularly care. Not when soldiers were being reinforced -goddamn replaced! - by circus freaks with animal parts!_

" _Private Cerioth belongs to a reptilian demi-human race, sir, commonly referred to as dragons."_

" _Dragons, Sergeant?"_

" _Yes sir."_

" _Do you mind telling me why the hell we are recruiting things like these into active service?"_

" _Happy to, sir. Draconic scales are harder than steel, effective in reflecting combat knives and impervious to small arms fire. Their tails are strong enough to snap bones like twigs and their wings allow them to fly."_

 _That first part of description got the Lieutenant's attention alright. Impervious to small arms fire and knives? "The girl's got Kevlar for skin?"_

" _Better than Kevlar, sir."_

 _Braeburn whistled and returned his focus to this dragon-girl, who had completely demolished her opponents in the few moments they had been talking. She was grinning as she helped one of the soldiers back to his feet. These men didn't seem to care what she was; they gracefully accepted their defeat._

" _How strong is she?" asked Braeburn._

" _Far stronger than any human. She can shatter bricks with singe punches, or break guns in half with her bare hands."_

" _Alright," replied the Lieutenant, swallowing a lump in his throat. Was his mouth that dry, or was it just him?_

 _Now that he looked at the young Private, he could see that she indeed had some aspect of beauty about her. Very…intriguing. "Show me the rest."_

 _The Sergeant smiled. "Now you're talkin'. Right this way, sir."_

* * *

 **September**

Several months later, US armed forces adopted the usage of extra-species soldiers as well. Training extra-species individuals as soldiers became an attractive prospect, further motivated by increased government funding. The military prowess of several extra-species races proved to be a key aspect in the integration of their kind.

The new possibilities of war served to deter war.

 _ **2014**_

 **January**

The Netherlands adds a group of Long Leg Arachne Breeds to their police forces in Amsterdam. Within 3 weeks, the crime-rates start fluctuating as hardened criminals are caught and rebellious teenagers take to petty crimes to come face-to-face with the new units, for unknown reasons.

The governor of Amsterdam now regularly visits the police department near his house, claiming that the new forces are a "tremendous advantage" in combating violent crimes.

Police brutality against armed suspects prompts many would-be offenders to take up new occupations.

 **July**

A Monoeye marksman sets the world record for longest-recorded sniper kill without a scope…

* * *

 _Private Osvald carefully placed her one eye near the iron sights of her rifle, careful not to displace herself. In clear sunlight, a scope wouldn't do. Wouldn't do at all. The reflection would give her away and then what would she do? In close quarters, she wouldn't last a minute._

 _The target exited his tent. Greeted his subordinates. Started walking._

 _Osvald exhaled and slowly, ever so gently, aligned her sights with the head of the target._

That's right, _she told herself._ Just another target…just another cardboard cutout.

 _She pulled the trigger and the barrel of her rifle exploded in a flash of light and fire. So did the head of her definitely-not cardboard target, a heartbeat later._

 _The Private nervously reached for her helmet mic, feeling a horrible feeling slowly spread through her abdomen. "P-Private Osvald here, sir. Target is d-down."_

 _She didn't hear her handler respond, as she was too busy hurling her breakfast over the dirt and rocks._

* * *

...and is subsequently scheduled for her first meeting with the Mental Health Councilor.

 **December 25th**

A terrorist attack in Yorkshire is thwarted when a Kobold smells suspicious traces of chemicals inside of an abandoned bag in a mall. Public Safety Bomb Disposal (PSBD) units arrive on scene and successfully dismantle the explosive inside. A disaster is averted.

 **December 31th**

Extra-species members with keen senses are enlisted within specialized bodies of state-empowered persons, such as the PBSD, prompting much rejoicing within the team. Whether this is due to additional talent or something else remains unclear.

 _ **2015**_

 **February**

The world's first counter-terrorism operation consisting mostly of extra-species members is successfully completed as at least five cells are dispatched without casualties. Malaysia sees action within the state of Sabah, where Arachne infiltrators and Dragonewt shock troopers are assisted by Monoeye sharpshooters to defuse a hostage situation. The operation results in a mere three wounded civilians and thirteen militia casualties.

 **December**

The American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS) makes a breakthrough in utilizing the CRISPR interference technique for human genome editing. Bioethical concerns are expressed about the prospect of using this nascent biotechnology for editing the human germline.

 _ **2016**_

 **March**

The euchromatic regions of the Lamia genome is successfully sequenced. Treatment of related extra-species diseases can theoretically be simplified by applying the CRISPR breakthrough, but the majority of the population in the US still expresses worry about the genetic prospects of "meddling' with extra-species DNA.

'

 **April**

In response to the genetic breakthrough in regards to the euchromatic regions of Lamia genome, several human-supremacist organizations are founded to combat the ever-increasing role of extra-species in society. Often based in either religious or nationalism, these organizations have no qualms about resorting to violence.

 **May 14th**

Lamia representative Samaia Seleste is tragically shot to death during a speech. The culprit, armed and deemed too dangerous to arrest, is quickly shot to death by local police officers.

 **May 16th**

Human supremacist organization "Christian Identity" vocally opposes the civil rights of the Liminal species, but denies any link to the recent picket of the recently-killed Samaia's funeral.

 **May 18th**

In response to recent emergences of violent attacks on extra-species members, retaliatory strikes are reported by authorities. Many of these are violent as nature, sparking the first of many small-scale conflicts between Liminal species and human protesters.

 **December 18th**

A hostage situation in the city of Hengelo in the Netherlands results in the hospitalization of four extra-species individuals. The Dutch Pioneer Orc Renaissance Kinsmen section storms the Game Shop in the city district and demands an increase in eroge-themed video games. Unfortunately for the Orcs, one of their hostages turns out to have been recently recruited into the Dutch Special Forces. The resulting bout proceeds to wreck the store and results in the hospitalization of four of the Kinsmen and the soldier himself, who asks for his identity to be concealed.

* * *

" _They barged into the store, carrying these big guns," the young Pan girl diminutively said. Upon further inquiry from the reporter, she added, "And…ehm…I didn't know that bearded humans responded so badly threats. When one of those Orcs waved a knife in front of his face, he pulled out an even bigger one!"_

" _And when did you discover that they were going to fight?" asked the reporter._

 _The nervous girl looked away. "I guess at the same time he stabbed that one Orc in the neck…and the rest all dogpiled him…and got stabbed in return…it's a miracle nobody got seriously hurt…"_

 _The reporter turned to face the camera. "Upon being asked why he would risk his life fighting six Orcs when he could just let the extra-species members of the police department handle it, he said, and I quote, "My Sergeant would have kicked my ass if I hadn't done anything, my Echidna girlfriend would have kicked my ass if I hadn't done anything, I would have kicked my ass if I hadn't done anything, so the odds were even". I'd say that's as good a motivation as any."_

* * *

While this scenario is not a rare one, those involved all manage to get out relatively unscathed. The victims of the terrorist attack all manage to walk away without too much injuries, having been scared off by the tenacity of human close-quarters fighting. The anonymous bearded soldier walks away with three broken ribs and a sentence of a hundred hours of community service for illegally carrying a knife.

 _ **2017**_

After months of escalating violence between human supremacist organizations and non-human Liminal species, one controversial group comes into being and rises above the rest. The Crusader Collective, a trans- denominational religious group dedicated to the pursuit of natural balance within humanity. This organization has been slowly gaining support and members throughout the years and fringe members claimed the responsibility for the funeral picket of Samaia Seleste, as well as harassing facilities publicly known to be performing research into extra-species genome sequencing.

 _ **2019**_

The first Slime Girl individuals are adopted within Intelligence Agencies for their ability to infiltrate, prompting a rivalry with the Arachne infiltrators within other branches.

 _ **2029**_

The Crusader Collective, through links with the Roman Vatican and investments from anonymous magnates who share the same anti-Liminal view, acquires a large amount of wealth. The Associates now command two-million loyal adherents of their religious life-views.

At the same time, the many individuals who find themselves bullied, assaulted or otherwise threatened by the influence of the Crusader Collective gather to form the Liminal Rights Associates, an organization supposedly looking out for extra-species' interests.

Whether the two organizations will continue operating without conflicts remains to be seen.

 _ **2037**_

The Crusader Collective officially reveals its paramilitary section, creatively named after their other namesake, the Templar Order.

Several months later, the Liminal Rights Assiciates reveals their own paramilitary branch, the Monster Ops Neutralization (M.O.N) force.

To preserve the peace between the two organizations, the United States employs the M.O.N branch to solve incidents between extra-species criminals and human civilians.

 _ **2050**_

The combined intellect of humanity and the extra-species allows mankind to settle on Luna, Mars, the Jovian Moons and asteroids several decades sooner than initially speculated.

 _ **2084**_

The first armed conflict between the Crusader Collective and the Liminal Rights Associates is recorded. The battle, initially fought over ideology and territory, quickly devolves and then escalates. Templar and M.O.N forces clash, but as the Templars attack with sudden and unexpected violence, M.O.N casualties force the Associates to pull back.

The Collective wins the first strike.

 _ **2089**_

The past victory of the Crusader Collective inspires the formation of the Frieden military movement, based in the Jovian Moons and sponsored by corporate powers in the Unified German Republic. Drawing its philosophical origin from twentieth-century Fascism and National Socialism, the Frieden's ardent anti-Liminal ideals convinces them to adopt revolutionary ideals as well.

Tensions between the Frieden movement and the Liminal Rights Associates last well into the next century, but remain peaceful by comparison to the Crusader Collective.

 _ **2102**_

The Frieden movement collides with the Crusader Collective over a territorial issue; the Frieden's primary objective is revealed as gaining corporate independence by seceding from UN colonial administration and establishing a self-contained Jovian state. Frieden propaganda claims that in order to reach a peaceful and independent Jovian nation, the UN, an advocate of internationalism, is to be driven out of the Jovian Moons and destroyed around the Solar System, including on home ground.

The Collective, seeing most of its income originate from the UN, refuse to allow "fascist pigs" to drive away the UN.

Hundreds of casualties are reported on both sides, as well as marginal civilian losses. Both sides threaten that the violence has just begun.

 _ **2104**_

The Liminal Rights Activists are caught in the middle of the violent clashes between the Templar and Frieden forces, but hold their own. Despite Frieden war-mongering propaganda, the Jovian Moons are still hold under tight UN control.

The UN assigns detachments of military advisers to help administrate and possibly train the Jovian inhabitants and Liminal species in weapons combat and self-defense.

 _ **2125**_

After a crushing defeat at the hands of UN forces and M.O.N. paramilitary contingents, the Crusader Collective undergoes a drastic change. As radical Templar leaders take over control and militarize the organization, the Collective is now known as the Templar Order.

The Templar Order and the UN sign a begrudged treaty of non-aggression.

The Liminal Rights Activists refuse to sign any treaties until their own demands are met.

 _ **2134**_

The UNSC is commissioned as a military force primarily composed of Naval and Marine forces. In July of 2134, the UNSC partakes in its first battle. From this point, the UNSC is used by the UN in conflicts, including the Interplanetary War.

 _ **2135**_

Following a relatively blurry outcome in the Jovian Moons, Templar, Frieden, M.O.N and UNSC forces prepare for an engagement in South America in the year 2135, one of the most fertile and economically-promising regions of Earth.

Various alternative versions of this war and the outcome thereafter are described as history by the various organizations, turning the outcome of the Rainforest Wars into an even blurrier outcome than the Jovian moons.

[WARNING: DATA EXPUNGED. PLEASE REPORT TO THE NEAREST SECURITY STATION FOR THE VERIFICATION OF YOUR SECURITY ACCESS]

[DATA REDACTED]

 _ **2147**_

The Liminal Rights Associates perform a radical shift in their ideology and dogma, turning to violence and aggression to keep up with [REDACTED] attacks on their species. Now referred to as the Black Fang, the organization quickly and mercilessly crushes the Frieden military forces in several large-scale conflicts.

A treaty is signed between the remaining Frieden forces with the UNSC, officially ending the long conflict between the Frieden and UNSC forces and solidifying a democratic leadership.

The Black Fang quickly gather extra-species followers and amasses a powerful military. Tensions with the UNSC are negligible.

The Templar Order keep producing high-quality military equipment.

 _ **2234**_

A war erupts between the Black Fang and the Templar Order. The UNSC is unable to broker peace and is forced to **[DATA REDACTED, INSUFFICIENT SECURITY CLEARANCE].**

Casualties on both sides are extreme.

Unable to interfere because of the military might of both factions, the UNSC can only watch as the war claims half a million lives in mere months.

 _ERROR: FILE CORRUPTED_

 _REBOOTING SYSTEM_

 _ **2336**_

Lilim Heinrich Shepard, progeny of Lady Manat and Colonel Heinrich Shepard, is born within the Manat Clan. Her birth serves to prove that high-ranking individuals of both races are not only allowed to marry each other, but definitely _should_ marry each other.

 _ **2361**_

Lilim Shepard enlists within the volunteer-only Orbital Drop Shock Trooper unit at an unheard-of age within her long-lived race.

 _ **2362**_

Shepard quickly rises in held esteem in her team, earning a reputation within the rest of her unit.

 _ **2491**_

As the tensions and civil war increase in intensity, the UNSC launches project ORION, an Office of Naval Intelligence and Colonial Military Authority super-soldier program aimed at security and counter-insurgency operations. Due to the sheer physical advantages that extra-species possess over normal humans, the members of the ORION program are all designed to be augmented soldiers. Using the latest breakthroughs in biochemical developments derived from genetic techniques discovered within Liminal species genomic sequences and the CRISPR techniques, the ORION super-soldiers exceed all expectations.

The first generation of SPARTANS is unleashed upon the outer colonies to keep the peace.

 **2516**

Despite successes from the SPARTAN-I's, the sheer scale of the conflicts exceeds their capabilities. While capable of going toe-to-toe with most Black Fang and Templar Order combatants, the ORION soldiers are not enough to stop the destabilization of the colonies.

The SPARTAN-II project is initiated.

 _ **2525**_

 **February**

In a never-before heard-of scenario, a collection of hostile alien races finds and subsequently attacks UEG world Harvest. It is there that, after fierce ground-resistance from local forces, this "Covenant" resorts to partially glassing the planet from orbit.

* * *

 _Sergeant Avery Johnson gritted his teeth and endured the searing explosive discharge with sheer willpower. As the last effects of the blue explosive faded away, he emerged from his cover with his assault rifle at the ready. He Bip-Bap-Bammed three of the little bastards and, by the power of his amazing eyesight, managed to slot two of those shield-carrying SOB's with precision fire._

 _Jenkins was knocked on his ass by the explosive and caught the attention of one of the big monsters. It bellowed and charged at him, but it didn't get very far. Johnson violently tackled it from behind and stabbed it in the butt with his first knife, before reaching for his second for an impromptu tracheoctomy._

 _But wait! The aliens might not need their throat for breathing! Wouldn't a secondary gullet be better?_

 _Too late. The big bastard shook the Sergeant off with a mighty heave of its shoulders and then rounded on him instead, raising its big bladed rifle with casual ease._

 _Johnson gave an indignant puff of his cigar, which was still attached to his lower lip. "You're late!"_

 _The alien stopped, confused at his exclamation. Then Jilan al-Cygni appeared out of nowhere, leaping down at the big alien and pinning it to the ground with four of her eight limbs. The alien bastard was tough, no denying that, but the Long Leg Breed ONI operative clad in her specialized EXO-suit was tougher. The sharp blades attached to her legs via the EXO allowed her to easily penetrate the alien's armor._

 _Then, Johnson watched Jilan unleash a full magazine of SMG fire into the big bastard's head._

" _Took you long enough," said Avery._

 _Al-Cygni rolled with her many eyes. "Please. You had the situation under control." She paused, glancing down at the corpse of the last alien. "Why the nonlethal attack?"_

 _Johnson huffed. "A motivational device! These boys need to be shown something!" He then saw Jenkins enjoying his something a little bit too much and immediately snapped at the Marine. "Jenkins! Stop staring before I motivate you too!"_

" _Sorry sir!" replied the young Private._

 _Jilan reloaded her SMG and looked up through the tree-line, probably spotting something that even Johnson with his magnificent eyesight could not spot. "Our evac is here. We should leave. The last freighters have left too. Harvest is lost."_

 _Johnson gently plucked his cigar from his mouth and put it out. He would no longer need its stimulating effects now that the fight was over._

" _Lost?" said Jenkins. "Sarge, we're letting these aliens get their paws on our Harvest?"_

 _Johnson glared at the soldier. "We're not letting these filthy aliens keep their paws on our Harvest. Jenkins, get the boys. We're going to have to gain our body-weight in gun to take it back."_

" _The UNSC will see to that," Jilan dryly commented. "Of course, if you wish to stay on Harvest, you are welcome to stay."_

 _Well, that was an easy one. There was nowhere on Harvest left to stay._ _All that was left now was fighting, and Johnson_ would _fight. He_ would _gain his body-weight in gun and see to it that this war would end, one alien bastard at a time._

* * *

Most civilians are evacuated due to prior intervention of local militia forces.

A single sentence mobilizes the entirety of UNSC into a state of war.

" _Your destruction is the will of the Gods, and we are their instrument."_

The Templar Order attempts to use this declaration of war to justify an extermination of all Liminal species, claiming that "wiping out the filthy beasts will please this Covenant" and that "the aliens will then leave mankind alone".

Their popularity drops, but their finances do not.

 _ **2526**_

 **February**

The Covenant discovers and glasses outer colony Bliss.

* * *

 _Hendrick watched the massive battleship take its position above the city, like an angry giant about to unleash hell. When tiny pinpricks of light started gathering at the base of its prow, he knew that this would be it. Every last UNSC soldier on Bliss had been slaughtered by these monsters. Now it was their turn._

" _Don't look honey," Hendrick whispered, grabbing his young daughter by her shoulders and gently pulling her against him. The girl's yellow tail was rigid from fear. Who could blame the child? "Come here…come here…"_

 _Her mother understood what he was doing and wrapped her tail around the two of them, as if shielding them from what was about to come._

" _It's going to be okay, honey," she said, trying to sound reassuring. "Don't look at the sky…look at daddy, alright?"_

 _As the few remaining citizens in the burning city desperately tried to make their peace in the face of imminent death, the Covenant warship unleashed its Energy Projector on the city below, sentencing the people below to certain death._

* * *

The sheer scale and aggression of Covenant invasions prompts the Office of Naval Intelligence to hasten the search for artefacts that might serve to turn the tide.

 **March**

Admiral Preston Cole reaches Harvest, signaling the start of a five-year long campaign to retake and keep the planet.

 **April**

The Covenant discovers and glasses outer colony Circinius IV

 **August**

ONI's search leads to the discovery of Mass Relay 314, a massive object located near the outer colony of Shanxi. With energy readings off the scale, the Office takes the intelligent course of action and starts messing around with the object.

 **November**

After a long time of messing around with the massive space object, the Office of Naval Intelligence manages to activate it.

 **Citadel calender: 2157**

 **Relay 314**

 **Heavy Frigate** _ **Empire's Wrath**_

* * *

Captain Solitus of the Turian Hierarchy stood at the combat deck of the _Empire's Wrath,_ nervously watching his screens while his crew readied themselves for the worst. Rifles were being spread around as if anticipating a pirate attack, soldiers were strapping on their armor and the Captain felt like he needed a bucket.

The Mass Relay that had been lying dormant for years, decades, _centuries_ without incident, had just been activated. The very _first_ Mass Relay that pointed into this particular region of space. And that meant that someone at the other end of the Relay had found it. Now, both were active, and an active link between two Mass Relays meant trouble.

Now normally, a dormant Relay wouldn't have worried Solitus that much. There were enough dormant Mass Relays in the galaxy and most of them would be left dormant for a very long time.

But there were two problems with the prospect of _not_ worrying about a dormant Relay. First: the last time they had unlocked a dormant Relay, the Rachni horde had been unleashed upon the galaxy. Billions of sturdy, lethal arthropod monsters that always seemed to have another hive at the ready. To combat the Rachni, the Krogan had been uplifted by the Salarians and the galaxy had _felt_ how that turned out.

Second: the very few Mass Relay that could possibly send anyone into this unknown region of space were dormant. According to the Relay's navigation log, of course. Whether or not that made any sense was above his paygrade. What wasn't about his paygrade, was worrying that there were so _few_ Relays pointing into this section of uncharted space. And all of them were _dormant_.

Every single one, except for this one.

The Turian Hierarchy was panicking.

So by the power of evidence, Solitus was panicking too.

It had been about two days since the Relay had activated and already, the Primarchs were sending in reinforcements.

"Captain!"

Solitus turned around, facing the soldier who had addressed him. "At ease soldier. What do you wish to tell me?"

The Legionnaire nodded. "Sir, it's been two days. When are we going through the Relay?"

"We're not doing anything until we receive orders," the Captain sharply replied. This was something that he could not have.

A nearby screen flickering with a message caught his attention.

"Of course, Captain. But the men are asking questions. They are afraid we are facing another Rachni scenario."

"Of course not," replied the Captain. He was in command, and by his command the others would be calmed. If he failed to be competent now, someone would do something that everybody would regret. Now as the time to ease his worries and fears, for the men needed to have theirs eased as well. The last thing he wanted was for something like panicked-induced aggression to break the long period of peace that the Citadel Races had been enjoying. "This is most certainly a new species, having found the Mass Relay. A sentient one."

"Yes sir. But that does not refute the scenario of another Rachni war. Isn't activating a dormant Mass Relay illegal, at the very least?"

Captain Solitus turned to look at his subordinate again. "Brutus, are you suggesting we attempt to punish these aliens for committing a crime they could not possibly know they committed?"

"If they attempt to activate a dormant Relay-"

"Who enforces the laws within Citadel space, soldier?"

The Turian proudly puffed his chest. "The Turian Hierarchy, Captain. It is our responsibility to uphold the galactic peace!"

Good. He could appreciate such fervor. "Then tell me, if they have not yet encountered the majesty of the Council, how are they meant to know our laws? How should they understand their transgression?"

The soldier looked away, puzzled. "Hmm…I see your point, Captain. I hope the Primarchs will do so as well." With that, he saluted Solitus and left, leaving the Captain alone with his thoughts once more.

If this was a new sentient species having uncovered the might of the Protheans, the Council should welcome them with open arms. If this was another scourge like the Rachni, they needed to response with immediate force.

There was also a third possibility. This wasn't the first time that a new sentient species had been found. In 2125, on the planet designated as Parnack, Council officials in the delegation party were slaughtered by the native species ´Yahg´. These ´Yahg´ were sentient, possess technology and lived in a system where they could discover a Mass Relay.

And they had to be isolated. Who knew what chaos might have been caused had those beasts found the Relay? The innocent people who would die!

Solitus´ father had him read the report mere weeks after he had been accepted in the military. A message, a hidden threat. Do not trust everyone you meet. That lesson might be taken into heart the coming days, resulting in deaths and quite possibly, war.

 _Well,_ Solitus bitterly thought, _lesson learned, father._

Time passed by most frustrating means. Unbearably slow when Solitus wanted it to pass, then unbelievably fast when Solitus discovered something else needed doing within his Frigate,

Eventually, the _Empire´s Wrath_ was hailed by one of the Cruisers that the Hierarchy had sent, _Justice Repaid._ The Captain was immediately informed of this and he took his place in the bridge, crossing his wrists behind his back and raising his head.

"I am ready," he instructed one of his officers.

The officer nodded and then patched the CO of the _Justice_ through.

" _Greetings, Captain Solitus,"_

Solitus' eyes widened when he recognized the voice and appearance of his old mentor. "Captain Tracheus! Good to see you again."

" _Likewise, Solitus. Ready your men; we are going through."_

The Captain inwardly cringed when he heard that. "What about the diplomats? Should we not wait for the Asari?"

" _It doesn't work that way, Solitus. General Levitcus has standing orders to get this fleet through Relay 314 with all haste."_

General Levitcus…bah! That barefaced desk-General would be the deaths of all of them! "Tracheus, respectfully, on whose authority does General Levitcus act! I have a hundred and twenty souls onboard this ship."

Thoughts of Rachni and Yahg and other monsters crept through the back of his mind. The lives of his soldiers and crewmembers were at stake, and those were not odds he would take likely.

" _I apologize, Solitus. I understand your reservations. I share them…but Levitcus acts on the orders of the Council themselves. They want answers. To the Salarians, the large swaths of uncharted space are a mystery, needing to be solved. To the Asari, want to know why the Protheans would not chart Mass Relays to this section of space. They seem to think that the Protheans originated from there…and hope to find more Beacons."_

"Then what about our people, Tracheus! What of the Turians! What could we possibly win from going through this Relay?"

Captain Tracheus was solemn and calm as he gave his response. " _A first strike, Solitus. Now that the species at the other end of this Relay have opened the pathway, they might soon spill into our part of the Galaxy. We cannot have a surprise attack on our colonies, Solitus. Are you worried about your men? Then worry more about the lives of their families! The millions who might die if we allow this Relay to bring forth disaster. The sooner we contain it, the better."_

Solitus was fuming. The Councilors wanted them to venture into unknown space for their own petty desires? Very well. If that was their wish, he would obey, but there would be recompense for this. He was going to survive and personally chew Sparatus out for this madness.

And just like that, their fleet mobilized. Four Cruisers and seven Frigates were going to do what had not been done in 2000 years and travel through a Relay that had only recently been activated. He did not know what would await them on the other side, but he begged the Spirits of War that they would find no reason to fight in the coming days.

The path was set by the navigational officers, the Element Zero core was running hot and soon, the Heavy Frigate allowed the Mass Relay to set them on their new course.

In a flash of blue light, the _Empire's Wrath_ disappeared, quickly followed by the rest of the fleet.

* * *

 _ **AN:** I never usually make a timeline with my crossovers and fanfictions, but I believe that the start of this crossover warrants a little bit of description. Don´t expect more timelines however. Real chapters coming up after this one. _


	2. Act 1: Daily life with Hostile Contact

**AN:** _I had no idea that a crossover like this would generate such positive response, I'm amazed!_

 _Anyway, in keeping up with the tradition, the second chapter of this new fanfiction will be posted within days after the first chapter. Detailing the continuation of the First Contact. As always, I dont take sides, I just try to describe a realistic first contact between pre-Mass Effect turians and UNSC-led war-time humanity._

* * *

 **Unknown System, 2157**

 **Onboard Turian Hierarchy Heavy Frigate** _ **Empire's Wrath**_

In a flash of the brightest blue, the _Empire's Wrath_ came to a sudden halt, having just been booted several hundred lightyears in the blink of an eye. The vessel was but one of a larger pack of warships within the 124th Turian Patrol, and would play its role without incident.

The Captain of the Frigate all but glared at his consoles as the crew went about their duties. Perhaps a core discharge was necessary, putting the _Wrath_ out of commission for a few hours? A few days?

No, static build-up was nowhere near as close as he wanted it…

Shield emitters damaged? No, kinetic barriers were at a hundred percent. Damnit…

However much he wanted something to go awry and set back the expedition by a few years, all the readouts were normal. They had no choice but to press on, so he merely sighed and demanded, "Status report."

The ship's navigational Officer was quick to respond. "All readouts normal. Drift…just under 15."

Solitus rolled with his eyes. 15 was perfect. Glorious, in fact. As the Captain, he was elated to have his ship run at 15. Alas, if only the drift had been less perfect. "Great…"

If there was one good thing to come out of this whole mess, it was that they had beat the Salarians to exploring this system. This unexplored arm of the galaxy had been baffling them for centuries. After all, it didn't happen often that an entire swath of space was nearly impossible to reach via the Mass Relay System. Such findings often started theories. Wild, crazy theories about conspiracies.

The scientific team aboard the _Primarch's Choice_ had to be eager to start their work at the Relay. Despite trying his hardest to stay out of this whole mess, Captain Solitus had been unable to completely shut out all chatter about this expedition.

The connecting Relay of Relay 314 was what the Asari called a 'Prime Relay'. Skipping over all the techno babble that all the researchers threw around, such a Relay could connect to whatever other Relays they might find in the unexplored arm. The connecting Relay might open up this entire arm for exploring, should any fool arise who would actually _want_ such a thing.

Curses…the Legionnaires in the cargo hold were readying their ground assault vehicles. For what purpose? Surely the Hierarchy did not intend to go to war with whatever species they found? The Hierarchy was militaristic, but not to such an extent!

Solitus quickly discarded the notion of the Hierarchy organizing an entire fleet just to pick a fight. Nobody in the higher-ups were _that_ stupid.

What were they all getting their hopes up for, anyway? They might not discover anything. Maybe some uninhabitable rocks and asteroids, or some juvenile species worshipping the Relay like a deity. And then what would the mighty General Levitcus do? Shoot them?

Actually, that was just like Levitcus…

Solitus quickly shook his head and focused on the screens. "Bring the _Empire's_ sensors online. I want to make sure we don't land in the middle of an angry fleet."

"All systems online and functioning, Captain. Whoever activated that Relay didn't vandalize it; Mass Effect core energy readings are stable."

So the species that had achieved a high-enough technological tier to activate the Mass Relay understood the implications of the device. Good; they weren't savages then. Primitive perhaps, but not savage.

Solitus nodded and then eyed his readings. A normal star, average-sized. Two gas giants, one garden world and a moon. One asteroid field-

Garden world? That would be the origin of his mysterious new species then. Hopefully he would not be seeing its surface for the coming day; he would like to see the sights of the planet without having to scooch past the corpses. The Hierarchy was very thorough when it came to perceived threats.

"Captain!" Yelled one of his officers. "Contact! Five unidentified vessels in fight formation between our fleet and the planet!"

Solitus felt his stomach clench. _This is it._ He activated the shipwide communication channel and yelled, "Captain Solitus to all crewmembers, battle stations!"

The fleet started fanning out, away from the Relay. All the other commanding officers must have found the same results as well.

Captain Solitus received orders from the Fleet Commander. He was to stay in formation until they engaged the enemy, and then link up with two other Frigates and engage the enemy in hit-and-run attacks.

However, as the 124th Scout Patrol started approaching the planet, one of the officers at his station discovered something disturbing.

"Captain, no Element Zero readings. I repeat, no Element Zero readings. These ships are not built with Prothean technology."

Soliotus frowned. "Impossible. All FTL requires Element Zero. What other tech makes space travel possible?"

"Unknown Captain. However, are we certain this species activated the Relay? Element Zero is required to do such a thing."

Yes, it was impossible. However, Solitus' father had taught him that in space warfare, nothing was impossible. If you found yourself facing something impossible, mistakes were made.

Unless…did this species find a different way? Had their technology branched out along a different path, unguided by the Prothean data caches? "Ready all weapons, but hold your fire. Let us see what they do."

~0~

* * *

 **1640 Hours, November 27** **th** **, 2526 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **UNSC Destroyer** _ **Dragonbreath**_ **, en route planet Shanxi**

The day had started so well. Watching a full-contact spar between Tara and Blake, followed up by a good meal and forty-five minutes of freetime to contact family and friends and just _talk_. No reassuring, no worrying, just plain and nice talk.

All that had changed when the alarms sounded. Now, as the Captain ordered all able hands to get ready, a certain Corporal had to play his part.

" _General quarters: all hands to battle stations. I repeat: all hands, battle stations. This is not a drill."_

The doors parted and Corporal Frank Smith stepped onto the bridge right as the Captain finished his broadcast. Every wall was in possession of a screen, displaying the various statuses of the ship. Fusion reactor status, microwave broadcast spectrums, even sections of space.

One of them in particular stood out from the rest. As the Corporal passed by the navigation, weapons, communications and ship operations stations, the screen displaying the massive pronged object that the spooks had activated a few days ago. A fleet of ships, seven in total, were slowly making their way towards Shanxi.

His heart sank all the way to his shoes when he saw the alien geometries of the ship. The Covenant had found Shanxi, and all they had to protect the colony was a small army of platoon of soldiers on the surface and five vessels in space.

Corporal Smith halted and saluted the Captain in charge of the _Dragonbreath,_ Captain Richards. "Sir."

The Captain saluted him back. "At ease, soldier. Is your team ready?"

"They're gearing up as we speak, sir. Private Tara always takes a bit longer."

"They better hurry then." To his Junior Lieutenant at navigation, he called, "Come about to course one five two."

The bridge lights had been darkened to a red hue. The entire ship was rumbling as the _Dragonbreath_ prepared itself for combat.

"Take a look at these ships," the Captain then said, gesturing for the Corporal to come closer. "They look like any Covenant ships to you?"

Smith took a good, long look at the screen. Four ships of the fleet were estimated to be at least five-hundred meters large, rivalling their own Destroyer. Seven of the ships were smaller, about a hundred to hundred-fifty meters. They were sleek, sleeker than the UNSC ships. They had some rough edges to them and some odd protruding segments that looked like weak points if targeted.

Seven smaller ships, four larger ships. Impossible odds. How the hell was the UNSC going to face odds like that with a mere handful of Frigates and one Destroyer?

No. That wasn't his place to worry about. Keep Shanxi safe from any invading alien bastards, that was what he had to worry about.

"No sir," the Corporal finally replied. He was one of the few serving soldiers near this system to have actually seen Covenant ships in person. Even Captain Richards, hero of the Insurrection, had yet to face off against them. That made Smith the local expert. "Too many edges and points. Not smooth enough."

"Hmmm…it'll take FLEETCOM's reinforcements hours to arrive. Smith, take your squad and rendezvous under Lieutenant Volker. Priority mission: protect the civilians-"

One of the officers interrupted him. "Sir! Enemy contacts are beginning to move!"

The Captain was on the screen in no-time. "Show me." The zoomed image of the larger vessel shifted back to show the entire fleet, now slowly forming a tight triangle-like formation and heading towards a new target.

The name of their probable destination appeared on-screen: Shanxi.

"Double-time it soldier!"

The Corporal felt an adrenaline spike coursing through his body. He turned around and sprinted towards the elevator. Behind him, Captain Richards began barking orders at his crew as the _Dragonbreath_ prepared itself for war.

The elevator surged down with such speeds the soldier could feel his stomach dropping to his crotch. When it lurched to a halt, he nearly stumbled out, making his way towards the Pelican launch bay. His squad was there, as he had expected.

They were still gearing up.

"Tara!" Shouted Corporal Smith. "Get your hairy butt inside the Pelican, now!"

The Large Breed Arachne growled in return, mounting her M90 Shotgun to the back of her abdomen. "Ease up chum. Loading takes a lot of time!"

Some people might be hesitant about pissing off a violent, carnivorous soldier with the lower body of a massive tarantula. Most soldiers weren't Frank 'Fluffy Tamer' Smith. He had grown up on Madrigal, after his father had married a Wyvern. The colony was rife with extra-species gang members, some of them even with connections to the notorious Black Fang.

As such, the woman capable of tearing a Warthog apart with her bare hands was just about as intimidating to him as a wet towel which, of course, could kill him as well if he ever got particularly stupid.

"You should have loaded up before!" He shouted at her, jabbing a finger against her chest. Tara had donned her EXO-suit, which offered her some serious physical protection as well as increased mobility. Unfortunately, it didn't cover the underside of her body. "Where would you be if we had left an hour ago, lady? That's right, you'd be screwed! Now take those assault rifles and board the Pelican!"

Blake, their team's residentiary undead Commando, grinned widely at their conversation. "You heard the boss-man! You gotta take care of your guns beforehand!"

"Not everybody has a fetish for barrels, meat!" Countered Tara. "Why don't you take that SMG of yours and stuff it up your-"

"Can we all please get a move on?" Sounded from inside the dropship. Good old Sif, always ready for action and collected before combat. The Echidna wore her own specialized Lamia BDU, flexible enough to allow for a whole mess of crazy maneuvers, tough enough to shrug off small arms fire. In theory.

The other handler, Lance Corporal Hawkins, stood at the entrance of the Pelican, waving the three Liminal soldiers in. He was a whole lot less adept at handling Tara, having opted to specialize in fighting alongside the reptilian species. Nimble and quick on his feet, the Marine was an expert at keeping up with the superhuman speed of his subordinates.

With one Large Breed Arachne, an Echidna, a Zombie and two Marines, the dropship was absolutely filled to capacity. The two larger Liminal species stood packed against each other near the entrance, something that neither of them liked.

"Remember," the Corporal yelled as the Pelican took off, racing towards the surface of Shanxi, "Speed and movement is the key! Tara, Sif, you two will draw the most fire so stay alert! Blake, don't get any funny ideas! If the enemy nails your head, you _will_ die. I am not reattaching your legs again, you hear me?"

The beautiful commando was not impressed. "Don't be such a baby, hon'! That only happened once!"

Corporal Smith employed the power of a raised voice. "Don't give me lip, soldier! That plasma eats through flesh like your mother at a buffet! Keep your head down!"

Blake flashed him a wide grin. "You're so worried! I didn't know you cared!"

Smith reached out and slapped her across the back of her head. "Focus! We'll be dropping in two minutes. Once we reach Lieutenant Volker, you'll have you full of action. Until then, stay put."

Nobody in the team asked the obvious question: what would happen once the battlegroup in orbit lost?

~0~

Five ships. Four large and boxy ones, grey and black, barely visible against the darkness of space. The last one had to be the flagship; about as large as the rest, but completely different in shape. Whereas the other ones looked like floating bricks with bricks attached for engines, this contact ended in a tapered nose.

All of them were the size of Cruisers.

Regardless, the 124th was coming in too fast. At these speed, the aliens would assume that this was an intercept course and they would assume combat positions. If anyone opened fire now, this entire scenario would turn into a bloodbath!

He was not going to witness the start of a war. By the blood of his father, he would not have it! "Get me Captain Tracheus," ordered Solitus. "Now!"

The Communications Officer nodded and soon, Solitus was faced with the holographic display of his comrade-in-arms and mentor. "Tracheus, something is wrong."

" _Solitus. Now is not the time for doubt! What bothers you?"_

"Tracheus, these aliens, they do not utilize Eezo in their vessels. We cannot properly predict their movements. Our aggressive approach might provoke them!"

" _Solitus, I understand your reservations. Worry not; a simple display of force will be enough to stem these primitives."_

A single display of-? "No. We do not know what weapons they employ, what infantry they possess! They might take offense, or declare a state of emergency!"

Tracheus sighed. " _Do you think I am content with this? General Levitcus is eager for glory, too eager. But there is nothing you and I can do!"_

"Nonsense," Solitus shot back. "We cannot punish this race for something they did not know was wrong! We must open communications, regard this is a First Contact scenario!"

" _Take up your issues with Fleet Commander Tarankus. I would advise you to simply follow his word."_

Frustrated, Solitus replied, "I will. Attacking a new species without provocation is the way of the Krogan, not us." After that last remark, he severed the connection between him and his old friend.

"Alien vessel are still holding position," said one of his officers. "Captain, how can these primitives navigate the stars without Element Zero?"

"I don't know," replied Solitus, hoping he could focus on one issue at a time. "But I intend on finding out. Get me Comm's with Fleet Commander Tarankus, fast!"

Tarankus was a gifted tactician, if somewhat hot-blooded, with a reputation for violence. The perfect match for Levitcus and, if the rumors surrounding those two were true, more of an accomplice than a partner.

But today, he would have to see reason.

After a few, nervous moments, Tarakus appeared on the holo-screen. " _Captain Solitus? What is your…situation?"_

Solitus soflty inhaled. Proper Turians did not argue with their officers. It was bad form. Hopefully, Tarakus could see through that.

~0~

* * *

 **Onboard Turian Hierarchy Cruiser** _ **Palavan's Lance**_

The bridge of the _Palavan's Lance_ was a veritable hive of activity. Turian officers dove through sensor logs as the 124th Patrol Group made its way towards the colony, where a small group of warships was quickly gathering to intercept them. Fleet Commander Tarakus straightened his back and nodded at one of his communication officers. "We are close enough. That should calm them down. Hail their flagship."

Here he was, the first Turian Commander in centuries to make contact with a new species. A species capable of achieving spaceflight without the use of Element Zero, even. Such crafty creatures would be an unmissable addition to the Hierarchy. A client space was always needed, and these ones appeared very promising.

The Officer nodded and typed a string of commands at his console. "Hail sent. Awaiting your message, sir."

Tarakus raised his head. Let all primitive races be assured of the Turian law, which was absolute. "Greetings. We have come to your world because you activated a dormant Mass Relay, a forbidden act. However, let there be no bloodshed between us, for I am Fleet Commander Tarakus, and I merely wish for your warships to stand down. If you are unwilling to comply, we will be forced to meet your gathered fleet with lethal force."

"Are you sure they will understand that?" asked the Communications Officer.

"If they do, we can sort this mess out without incident. If they don't, they must at least be reasonable and stand down. If not…we have always need for a new client race."

"Yes sir."

The Fleet Commander had the 124th slowly drift towards the alien formation, eagerly awaiting their return-hail. However, as the minutes trickled by without any sort of response, he was starting to feel impatient.

Impatience turned to frustration and he ordered his fleet to accelerate towards the alien fleet.

When the Comm Officer next spoke, said frustration turned to outright anger. "Sir, you have an incoming transmission from the _Empire's Wrath_ , commanded by Captain Solitus."

Solitus…he knew that name. Yes…a good leader, but a very bad soldier. His tendencies to question his command were what kept him from greatness. "Put him through. Let us see what he wants to whine about."

The officer nodded and before soon, Tarakus was faced with the visage of a Turian who was unwilling to fight for his kind. "Captain Solitus," he said, forcing himself to be amiable." What is your… situation?"

" _Sir, our fleet's approach might alarm the primitives. Did you hail them? Are they standing down?"_

Fleet Commander Tarakus sighed. Questioning the command of a superior officer, was he now? "Captain Solitus, you and your vessel will stay in line for this operation. We cannot allow a species without Element Zero to mess around with a Mass Relay."

" _Yes, but they need to be taught this! We cannot simply rush their formation like this, they will assume the worst!"_

"Our kinetic barriers will shrug off whatever they can fire," replied Tarakus. "If they open fire merely because we approach them too fast, they are savages that need culling. Do not forget that they now have access to Citadel Space, Captain. We do not want a repeat of the Yahg incident."

" _I…spirits, you are right, sir. We cannot have war. Not now. Not ever."_

Tarakus was not so certain about that, but now that the troublesome officer finally saw reason, he was not going to vocalize his thoughts. "Good." He then linked the Captain to the global Comm and gave his next order. "All vessels, standard formation. Power up your weapons, all of them. Let us see the aliens tremble in fear. Let them see our might."

However, as the approaching ships powered up every single system with radiant visibility, it soon became obvious that the primitives were definitely seeing their might, as they immediately fanned out into a formation of their own.

"Yes," Tarakus whispered to himself. "Just about to surrender, aren't you?"

He could only guess about the mental processes that the alien captain had to be going through right now.

~0~

Faced with an enemy fleet that was powering up their weapons and coming straight towards them at a collision course, Captain Richard was left with only one option. "Remove all weapon system locks, order missile crews to readiness and warm up the MAC guns.

"Yes sir!" Said Lieutenant Karnov. She was a Kobold, a pseudohuman crewmember with physical characteristics of a canine. Intensely loyal to the crew and armed with reflexes faster than Richards' own, she took about a second to fulfill the order.

The Covenant being here meant only one thing. He had to keep in mind the possible destruction of the _Dragonbreath_. "Lieutenant Davis, initiate the Cole Protocol. Purge our navigation databases, then generate an appropriate randomized exit vector away from Shanxi."

"Aye skipper!" Yelled the Small Arachne Breed. Speaking of reflexes, one did not get much faster than a Small Breed like her. She was the only member who never needed coffee -mostly because she reacted very badly to it- and her reaction speed was so blisteringly fast that she could dodge bullets.

If only she wasn't so damn cheerful in the face of a Covenant fleet glassing Shanxi...nonetheless, everybody had their own coping mechanism.

"The fleet is ready, sir," announced Lieutenant Gordon. "The _Aegis Fate_ and the _Chioglossa_ are taking up positions on the grid. _Passion Play_ and _Everdead_ have released all their dropships to Shanxi's surface as well. Reinforcements are two hours away."

Five ships to beat eleven…maybe if the odds were reversed, they'd win. These ships looked different though. Maybe the Covenant was trading quality for quantity this time.

But two hours was completely useless. This battle wouldn't take two minutes. "Good."

The _Dragonbreath_ had received a garbled transmission from one of the enemy vessels. Alien, of course. Unclear nonsense with a rather condescending tone to it. Though, knowing the aggressive approach of these aliens, it might have been rage as well.

The Captain sent an encrypted package of firing solution and countdown times to the rest of the battlegroup. From this distance, the alien ships looked like toys to him. That did not nothing to lessen his fear, however.

When the deaths of fifteen million civilians were the cost of failure, how could he not be afraid? With these odds, he was terrified. But he could not allow that fear to cloud his judgement.

"Lieutenant Davis, Show me the fleet's position and the relative location of the enemy."

"Yes sir!" Replied the small Arachne. Her hands were a blur across the controls. A heartbeat later, a system map snapped into place at the main screen. A few tactical markers appeared, marking the position of the Frigates.

And he was in charge of commanding this battlegroup.

The contacts rapidly crossed the many hundreds of thousands of kilometers, coming close enough to be targeted. Their lateral lines were charging, energy signatures were clear, but there was no plasma charging. Odd. What were they going to hit them with this time?

"Sir, MAC weapon systems are hot!" declared Lieutenant Karnov. "Removing safeties now."

The Captain waited, giving his battlegroup a few moments to transfer their firing control to their computers and link the vectors to their own navigation. Then, he linked all ships to his global command pushed the order to fire.

The _Dragonbreath_ recoiled and spat twin bolts of thunder towards the enemy. On the tactical overlay the Frigates, a mere thousand kilometers apart, opened fire as well.

~0~

* * *

"Spirits! They're engaging! Enemy fire incoming!"

Fleet Commander Tarakus responded with years of ingrained experience and instincts. "Evasive maneuvers! Don't let them hit us!"

The officers on station immediately processed his orders and the _Palavan's Lance_ immediately veered off course, followed by the rest of the fleet. The Frigates easily managed to dodge the incoming salvo, but two Cruisers were unable to speed away fast enough.

The _Primarch's Choice_ and the _Phalanx_ were struck with all the fury of a newborn star. On his screens, the Fleet Commander was helpless to watch the two mighty Cruisers got crushed into oblivion, their kinetic barriers flaring for mere micro-seconds before fading away.

Tarakus cursed under his breath. Four-hundred good Turian soldiers per ship, dead in a flash. What had those primitives fired at them, spirits be cursed! Mass Accelerator rounds? Directed energy? Nuclear fire? They had been close, too close, but to think that this race was capable of employing such weapons with Element Zero was…it was unthinkable!

The Fleet Commander directed five of the Frigates towards the surface of the world and ordered them to send in all troops. Turian Doctrine was clear on this matter; it dictated that this new species be assessed for integration into Turian society. If they were found to be capable, they would be subjugated and processed into the Citadel-aligned races for the benefit of all.

And the advantage of a species like this…capable of swatting Cruisers out of space without the use of Mass Effect fields? By no means an easy feat.

And this species was capable. Spirits, they were capable. But the deaths of four-hundred capable Turian personnel demanded retribution!

With the remaining two Cruisers and six Frigates, Fleet Commander Tarakus met his enemy head-on. "All vessels, engage the enemy! Release single-ship fighters and boarding parties. I want one of these vessels intact!"

Then, as his Fleet opened fire on the enemy fleet, the Fleet Commander eyed the one different vessel in the alien battlegroup. The one with the tapered nose. His ego demanded it be captured and studied. His instinct told him to destroy it.

The souls of four-hundred murdered people weighed down on his ego, and his decision was made easily. "Aim all Mass Accelerators at the enemy flagship. Reduce it to ashes!"

~0~

* * *

 **1655 Hours, November 27** **th** **, 2526 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Shanxi, grid seven by eighteen**

The Pelican dropship came to a sudden halt. The pilot yelled at them that they were in the clear and that was all that Lance Corporal Hawkins needed. He opened the rear hatch and bathed the blood tray in light.

"Move out!" Shouted Corporal Smith. "Get going!"

Hawkins leapt out of the hovering dropship and quickly moved aside as the three extra-species Privates came barging out of the main compartment. The Arachne, the Lamia and the Zombie quickly rushed out and, displaying at least some sense of tactical knowledge, quickly fanned out and scanned the surroundings for hostiles.

"So," called Blake. "Where's the el-tee at?"

The undead soldier was a peculiar case. Technically alive, she didn't have a pulse, nor any form of physical response to damage or pain. She felt things and she had brain activity, but her body didn't heal on its own, requiring special medical treatments to keep her in fighting shape. Most of her organs were flash-cloned replicas of the original ones and because of the extreme burn wounds on her body after her last mission, a large section of her skin had required replacement too.

Still, she could take and dish out an impressive amount of punishment. Innies and Templars were mostly ineffective against Zombie infantry; the girls could simply allow the armor-piercing rounds to blow through their bodies and the only thing they had to worry about was maybe putting on a bit of bullet-induced weight.

Not today. Covenant weaponry had eliminated that advantage.

"A few klicks ahead, in Dorden's city center. Move out."

Lance Corporal Hawkins took up his position next to Sif, securing the squad's left flank. Smith took up the right flank, allowing Blake and Tara to take point.

Between a girl with limitless endurance and a girl with eight powerful legs, said point was a very fast one. Jake Hawkins was by no means a slouch; he had been serving in the UNSC for four years now, more often than not serving as a scout or recon unit. But the stamina of extra-species was something a normal human could not compete against.

So he kept his panting to himself and did his best to keep up with the Echidna.

Sif had proven to be the most effective in a scouting position as well. Her reflexes and physique allowed her unparalleled flexibility and movability on the battlefield, and her ability to track targets with their scent and heat signature was nothing short of amazing.

The reason that the Pelican hadn't simply dropped them off right on top of the Lieutenant was simple. The Covenant might have already invaded Shanxi. Concentrating infantry in the middle of a city center was enough reason for the aliens to reduce the city center to rubble. Quick and dirty drop-offs were the best solution, an ideal mixture of subterfuge and efficiency.

At least, that was what the Lance Corporal had been told. He didn't question orders. He merely obeyed them.

The journey to the city center was a short and intense one. Along the way, Corporal Smith kept track of the situation on Shanxi. The UNSC battlegroup had engaged the Covenant strike force and managed to eliminate two vessels before the Covenant returned fire. As expected, several smaller vessels had broken off and were now bearing down on the major population centers, dropping off swarms of dropships, vehicles and other nasty military hardware.

In return, every single capable hand within Dorden was mobilizing. The Templar Order's influence within the Outer Colonies was negligible, which meant that a lot of humans married extra-species individuals. Such bonds led to weird things, like a higher hospitalization rate and a large section of the population being capable of fighting. While they were most likely civvies with impressive track records instead of an actual militia, if they could hold their own in a fight, nobody was willing to complain.

It had become humanity's thing to oppose their enemies on every single square inch of land, sea and air. Such ground resistances were always impressive, but short-lived, ultimately leading to more casualties than when they had simply evacuated.

It was one thing to see a group of Centaurs charging along with APC's and other armored vehicles to storm a Covenant flank. It was another thing to see said charge obliterated by airstrikes.

It would be the same here. Monster girls would rip apart the Covenant forces and in return, get shredded by the easily-gained Covenant air superiority and artillery strikes.

As they made their way into the city center, the Lance Corporal saw more and more groups gather around tactical positions. Choke-points, sturdy buildings and other kill-zones. Members of every single race. Monoeye snipers, Dragonewts and Dragon shock infantry, Centaurs helping with heavy lifting. He even saw a handful of Orcs handing out weapons.

"Look at that," Corporal Smith told him as their squad made its way through friendly territory. "And the Templars want to destroy this."

"The Templars have enough assets to protect this city on their own," replied Hawkins. "And they got a bigger fleet, too."

"Don't give me that. The price of their assistance is much too high. They'd have Sif executed, or worse."

"If they don't, the Covenant will."

"Bullshit!"

"She's seven meters long, Frank. All it takes is one bolt of plasma, one of those purple tracking things and she's a goner. It's been two years now, and how many have died?"

"How many more will die if the Covenant gets their way? This isn't the Insurrection, Jake. These things want us dead, and they want _all_ of us dead. The Templars, the Black Fang, everybody. Now you take that Battle Rifle of yours and you put it to good use!"

Hawkins had to admit that his will and determination had remained unbroken. His motivation, however, was slowly waning. Two years of nonstop fighting would do that to you. "Got it. Keep those civvies out of the building though. Covenant'll blow them all to pieces when they gain air dominance."

"If, Hawkins. If."

"Yes sir."

~0~

* * *

The _Dragonbreath_ trembled and groaned as the enemy unloaded another salvo of rounds into their hull. These new Covenant ships were a lot less sturdy, but there were so damn many of them, and they were so damned trigger-happy. Instead of launching several salvos of highly-destructive plasma, they now launched several dozen salvos of small, high-speed projectiles that hit hard.

This fight wasn't going well. The group of five smaller vessels had ganged up on the _Everdead,_ swarmed her with their weapons. Round after round impacted on the light Frigate and its commander couldn't fight them off.

Eventually, the alien ships obliterated the Frigate, but one last salvo of Archer missiles had taken two of the ships with her.

Whatever these ships fired, it wasn't as destructive as plasma. The _Dragonbreath's_ nearly two meters of Titanium-A battleplate armor that covered her from stern to stern couldn't take more than a few direct plasma torpedo impacts, but the Destroyer had now taken thrice as much rounds and she was still kicking.

Captain Richards didn't complain. What he did do however, was put his twenty-six oversized Archer missile pods to good use. "Seal pressure doors on the lower decks. Lieutenant Karnov, fire Archer missile pods A through C at designated Bogey-1. Fire Archer missile pods D through G at designated Bogey-2."

"Yes sir!" Exclaimed the Kobold. The destruction of the _Everdead_ had gripped her in a tranquil fury and she typed in his orders even faster than normal. "Missiles away!"

Ninety missiles closely followed by another hundred-twenty missiles streaked towards the targeted enemy vessels, tiny trails of exhaust stretching from the _Dragonsbreath_ to the tatgets. They easily tracked the smaller vessels despite their alarming maneuverability and rapidly approached them.

Blurs of light erupted form the sides of the ships, nailing at least a dozen missiles each.

The majority of the missiles impacted. Fire covered the skins of the ships as their shields held, then dissipated under the extreme explosive force of the Archer missiles. The remaining missiles slammed into the wounded Covenant ships, carving deep and gaping holes before the internal structure buckled and the ships exploded in twin flashes of white.

Single ships -the human's Longsword fighters and odd, angular fighters of the Covenant- dove, fired and impacted into warships. On his screen, he watched the _Passion Play_ go up in a ball of nuclear fire as long-distance shells finally got through to its internal components.

Richards gritted his teeth. "Lieutenant Davis-"

"Sir, incoming transmission! It's…video feed, sir!" Cried the communications officer. "Putting it on-screen now!"

Captain Richards glanced at the screen that blurred for a few moments, then showed the visage of what was definitely a new alien in the Covenant rank and file. It had a face two eyes and a set of mandibles around their mouth. Its face, adorned with war paint, had an intelligence to them that was befitting of the brutal efficiency he was seeing here.

The humanoid nodded, a surprisingly-human gesture. It then raised a weapon -a non-Covenant weapon, oddly enough.

Then, it dropped the weapon on the ground, looking directly at the screen as it did so.

"It just repeats, sir. What do you think it means?"

Richards stared at the screen, asking himself just that. Dropping one's weapon was usually a sign of surrender. It seemed oddly out of place for this battle. Unless he was missing something.,

He frowned and scanned the battle, searching for anything that was fittingly out of place like the alien gesture.

There, at the fringe of the battle. Two of the large aliens vessels that had been shelling the _Dragonbreath_ from a long distance. One of them moved in front of its sister-ship, cutting off its lines of sight and risking a serious friendly fire accident. What were they doing? It was the same vessel that had hailed him, he was sure of it.

"Sir," Said Lieutenant Davis. "Ehm, enemy vessels are pulling out. Request permission to fire, over?"

"Negative," said the Captain. "No, wait."

Something was off. The alien vessels stopped firing and the smaller vessels -those that had survived at least- all moved away.

No Covenant ship had ever just stopped fighting. They either stayed until every last defender had been butchered, or they fought to the last ship. This wasn't their Doctrine.

No plasma. Different ships, not purple, not nearly as strong as normal ships. Even the smallest Covenant ships could withstand at least one MAC. These ones had buckled after one shot. Hell, he had personally taken out two of their smaller vessels with just Archer missiles. Even that alien commander, with its odd gesture, didn't look like a Covenant soldier.

Perhaps this wasn't the Covenant at all? The aliens had appeared around the strange object at the fringe of the system. Why there? And why not board or destroy it?

"Priority channel," ordered the Captain. "Audio only."

"Sir."

On the priority channel, Captain Richards was free to order the remaining ships in his fleet to target specific ships, rendezvous at a different position or outright retreat. This time however, he had something else in mind. "Lead to all ships, hold your positions. Fire only when fired upon. Repeat, hold your fire until the enemy returns fire on us."

"Sir?" Said Lieutenant Karnov. "We have them on the run! We should press the attack!"

"No Karnov. The Covenant doesn't just break off. You saw their transmission too. I think they want a cease-fire. If they want to buy us time for our reinforcements, they are welcome to."

"I…ehm…yes sir!"

Despite the situation, Richards smiled. Kobolds. They could always be depended on.

~0~

* * *

 **1724 Hours, November 27** **th** **, 2526 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Shanxi, grid seven by eighteen**

Slime girls. They could always be depended on.

Through his binoculars, Corporal Smith watched with satisfaction as the handful of extra-species soldiers he had sent to outflank the enemy, made their move. The Slime dropped down from the ceiling and landed atop the face of the first alien, distracting the rest of the group. Even from this distance, he could make out the big, glowing eyes of the Slime girl. Such a cute little thing. He wondered if these aliens thought the same thing about her.

~0~

* * *

Legionnaire Tractus screamed at the top of his lungs as some sort of blue parasite dropped down from the ruined ceiling above, engulfing the head of Lucso with its whole body.

Lusco stumbled under the weight of the blob-like terror, which immediately sprouted tentacles with blue points at their end to swat at the other turian soldiers.

"Lusco, hold on!" Shouted Tractus. He rushed at his friend and attempted to grab a hold of the parasite to pull it off, but it was no use! His talons merely swept through the slimy creature like it was made out of water!

"Spirits, he's choking to death!" Yelled Paultor.

He was right; poor Lusco was turning a dark shape of blue, clawing at air that wasn't there. Slowly, he was sinking to his knees.

A horrible, demonic face had appeared within the gelatinous parasite; glowing, green orbs that appeared more like gemstones than eyes.

Succumbing to their fears, Tractus and Paultor both opened fire, taking great care to avoid hitting the head of their trapped comrade. Mass Accelerator rounds tore through the viscous blob without any resistance at all and slammed into the wall behind it.

The creature merely reformed around Lusco's head, not even inconvenienced by the assault rifle fire.

Tractus felt desperation seize him. "Spirits, it won't die! It doesn't die!"

~0~

* * *

"You think ET knows they can just hose the girl with water or catch her in a plastic bag?" Asked Corporal Smith.

"No idea. They didn't seem to like the girl a lot. Think they'll see Sif coming?"

Smith shrugged. "She's your girl."

"She's _not_ my girl."

"Maybe you should tell _her_ that. You're the only she seems to smile around."

"Well…considering what she's about to do, that doesn't have to be true."

~0~

* * *

Legionnaire Paultor felt something long and heavy slam into his spine, completely bypassing his kinetic barriers and sending him crashing through a wall. Bricks and pieces of wood shattered as the Turian soldier was smashed through them.

Tractus had about half a second to respond and to a being without augmented or superhuman reflexes, such a small window of time was impossible to utilize. A long, brown appendage appeared out of nowhere and wrapped itself around his ankles, waist and shoulders. Thick, heavily-muscled and covered with scales. A monster, an animal unleashed upon them by these creatures.

The Legionnaire was unable to face his opponent and as the heavy coils around his lithe frame tightened, slowly breaking his bones and crushing his organs, the last thing he felt was a pair of clawed hands wrapping around his jaw and neck.

Something snapped and everything went dark.

Paultor sluggishly rose to his feet, clutching his wounded chest. "Tractus!" He yelled. "Ambush, get out!"

He expected his Turian partner to emerge from the bombed-out husk of a building. What he got instead was a devilish being from his darkest nightmares, with the upper body of an Asari-like being and the lower body of a smooth Thresher Maw.

And that was his last sight before the monster lunged for him and sank its long fangs into his throat.

~0~

* * *

"On second thought, you were right," Said Corporal Smith. "Sif _does_ smile when she's not around you. Only when she's killing things."

"Echidnas like violence. I'm just here to direct that towards her foes."

"I hear that."

~0~

* * *

 **Onboard Turian Hierarchy shuttle 057**

Captain Tracheus was a saint. A spirits-blessed saint! Now they had a chance, a true, honest chance to prevent this from escalating into war!

From his shuttle, Captain Solitus was still capable of following the situation. Fleet Commander Tarankus had lost multiple ships. The Cruisers _Primarch's Choice_ and the _Phalanx,_ the Frigates _Victus, Implacable, Varacan_ and the _Verrikan_ , even multiple dropships and squads on the surface. In return, they had managed to destroy two of the five alien vessels and shell one of their cities on the surface of the colony. It wasn't worth it. Not worth it at all.

But now that he had a chance to end this madness, he _would_ take it.

The shuttle took him down right outside of the range of the colony's AA cannons. Most of them had been destroyed in the opening bombing, but he wasn't going to risk dying yet. His task was much too important for him to die now.

In his personal guard he had placed the most capable veterans of his ship, as well as two cabals. This alien race needed to realize that this massacre wasn't all the Turian Hierarchy was about. They stood for unity, discipline and morals. They would uphold the peace and sanity within the universe, not destroy it.

"Set us down near the edge of the city," said the Captain. "Their commanding officer has to be found there. You will accompany me, but you will not open fire until I give you the order. Am I understood?"

As one, his squad saluted.

Good. He was going to need that discipline for his plan.

This close to the army that the Frigates had dropped off, Solitus received every single transmission that the Turian soldiers sent. The uncertain ones, the panicked ones. The dying ones.

" _Invictus to Command, the enemy soldiers have monsters! Spirit-cursed monsters! They're tearing us apart!"_

" _We need reinforcements. Wait, what was that? Damnit, Legionnaire Valtor is stuck in some sort of goo. What is that, a web?"_

" _Did you see that? I shot off its goddam legs it's still shooting us!_

" _Kinetic barriers don´t stop their blows. Watch that flank!"_

" _These hostiles are flying! Heads up, hostiles are flying!"_

Solitus knew not what sort of biological terrors these primitives employed and neither did he want to know. This slaughter would end here.

~0~

* * *

The problem with aliens coming from outer space was that damned outer space. Corporal Frank Smith could have sworn that Dorden had been very secure with the multiple platoon's worth of reinforcements, yet an alien close air-support assault had reduced most of its large buildings to rubble, much like Lance Corporal Hawkins had predicted.

Then, the Covenant had started pushing into the city by force. Armored vehicles, large swaths of infantry and more air support. The Marines were holding, but barely. Hopefully they would be get reinforcements within the hour.

Within the minute would be welcome too.

"I'm not going to say it," said Tara, "But I will. I fucking told you so!"

"Tara, not now."

"Crushing their infantry is fine, but no! Mister Smith wants the Arachne to attack their tank as well!"

"Tara, please!"

"And now the rest of their infantry is pissed off! Whadda you know?"

"Less whining and more shooting!" Yelled Blake. The Zombie popped up from her cover and fired off a burst of her two SMG's before the enemy fire forced her back down again. "Goddamnit, they're suppressing us!"

"Gee," said Sif, rolling with her eyes. "You think?"

Lance Corporal peered over the stone wall and fired off a burst with his Battle Rifle, downing one of the aliens. "Scratch one."

Frank recalled every single option and tactical approach he had been taught during training. They were caught trying to outflank and enemy armored column. Tara and Sif had managed to destroy two of their ground vehicles before a large group of infantry had appeared from the ruins of a skyscraper, pinning them down with a hail of fire.

With the safeties of his girls on the line, there was only one thing he could do. Play the Rabbitgirl, haul ass, push his head between his legs and kiss said ass goodbye.

Corporal Smith sighed and glanced up at the sky. Of all his regrets, he regetted the fact that he had never called his father back the most. Well, right after the fact that he would die a virgin. That one sucked even worse. "Ah…if this is over, I'm going to kiss you, Tara."

The Large Breed Arachne stopped firing her duel assault rifles and turned to look at him, "The fuck you say?"

"As soon as they target me, run like hell."

"What are you-"

Corporal Smith inhaled and burst from his cover, sprinting away from the suppressed area and towards the upturned APC that Tara had messed up, roughly ten meters away.

Just like he predicted, the Covenant soldiers immediately tracked him with their weapons, pouring hundreds of rounds into his general direction.

The Corporal ducked and weaved, cursed and yelled. Sand and rocks around his feet exploded as enemy fire traced him and when he was about to slide into cover, he caught a burst of fire in his side. The rounds knocked the breath out of his body. Pain slashed through him like a red-hot razor and he quickly dove behind the upturned APC.

"I'm hit!" He yelled. "I'm hit!"

As the bullets pinged off of the alien vehicle, Smith checked his BDU. The Arachne silk that had been woven through the standard Marine armor had saved his life; five times stronger than steel and twice as elastic as nylon, his BDU had not been breached yet. He would live. For now.

Smith took a few breaths to calm himself and then peered out from the upturned APC. The enemy fireteam was still hunched down behind their cover, firing potshots at the test of his squad. However, Sif and Hawkins were gone now, leaving only Tara and Blake behind.

"Goddam titty-ticks. I thought Arachne were meant to be fast…"

But he knew his duty. He would never forgive himself if anyone in his squad would die. For their sake, he would have to keep up this suicidal endeavor.

Corporal Smith darted away from behind the APC again to lure the enemy suppressive fire towards him. He was successful in that regard. Too successful.

The Covenant soldiers had anticipated him running around like a Poultry Harpy and they acted accordingly.

Bullets impacted on his BDU again and this time, the Arachne silk was unable to keep him protected. Lances of pain shot through his right leg and left arm, as well as his chest. He didn't know if it was the sheer adrenaline of the fight or his own stubbornness, but he somehow managed to make it to the ruined remains of what had once been a large house. He crept down low behind one of the walls and groaned, clutching his bleeding limbs.

It was then that he realized why the enemy fireteam had been so eager to suppress them, and why the reinforcements in this area had been unable to get to them. When the Covenant came to assault Drosden, they did so with completely different tactics and approaches. No Grunts, no Jackels. No Banshees or Seraphs or other vehicles.

An enemy fireteam breached the bombed-out building, quickly fanning out behind Smith's position,.

The Corporal, bleeding and exhausted, merely sighed in annoyance and pulled out his sidearm. He slowly took aim at the first alien, but the bastard did something that he hadn't expected. The Covenant bastard raised a fist in the air, prompting the other soldiers in its team to hold their fire.

Corporal Smith coughed. His arm wavered and he lowered his gun, unable to keep it raised.

The alien glanced at him with an expression that could only be described as confusion. Then, it transferred its rifle to its left hand and raised it in the air, as if surrendering.

Its squad still didn't open fire. Instead, two of the aliens approached Smith and carefully, almost gently, removed his sidearm from his weak grip.

No Jackels. No Grunts. No hostile intent. Was this the Covenant? Truly?

Frank groaned and managed to contact his squad. "Corporal S-Smith…alien contacts...n-not hostile. Approach m-my location with care…don't open fire…until e-enemy does."

The individual in command of this alien squad knelt down in front of Smith, lingering at his wounds. He said something that the Corporal couldn't understand, then placed its right hand against his head.

Still no hostile contact.

~0~

* * *

"There need not be war between us," repeated Captain Solitus. The wounded soldier glared at him with an expression that lingered between hatred and agony.

Of course it would not understand. Alien languages were such a bother. No matter; they would get a translation soon enough.

"Spread the word to the rest of the army. Tell them to break off the attack and pull back. Captain Tracheus managed to broker a ceasefire. Terrible mistakes were made today, but it is not too late to make amends."

 **~0~**

* * *

 **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: WARFARE: WEAPONRY: MONO-MOLECULAR BLADES**

" _The problem with the combat application of the so-called "mono-molecular blades" is that that the sliced object would immediately reform due to the Van der Waals forces. As such, a blade sharpened to a single atom would not do any significant damage. Such a blade would also easily shatter into a million pieces. It should be worth noting that a cut of this magnitude would still cause defects and abnormalities within the reintegrated frames._

 _However, scientific breakthroughs have still found a way for extra-species combatants and Spartan super-soldiers to employ blades with immense cutting power. The technique involves a hard metal blade coated in a microscopic layer of artificial diamond. This diamond layer is then exposed to artificially-created plasma, which sharpens it to a level matching or even exceeding that of an obsidian knife. The metal blade means that there are not brittleness concerns to worry about, and the strength of the diamond coating means that the blades will stay sharp for one thousand times longer than a normal metal blade."_


	3. 1,1: Daily life with Second Contact

_**AN:**_ _ah, 12K words. Feels good to be back at my normal writing schedule._

 _~0~_

* * *

 _ **October 21th**_

 _The Battle of Alpha Aurigae is won by UNSC forces. 117 UNSC ships manage to defeat 12 Covenant warships with only 37 losses. The battle is regarded as one of the few major victories._

 _ **November 5th**_

 _The Covenant finds and glasses Biko_

 **November 27th**

 **17:59**

 _Turian Captain Tracheus is detained and condemned for desertion and insubordination._

 **18:14**

 _After a short trial, Turian Captain Tracheus is locked away in the brig of his own Cruiser and replaced by Captain Kortus, effective immediate._

 **18:32**

 _Turian General Levitcus and Fleet Commander Tarankus communicate with Councilor Sparatus and, after a heated conversation, continue the offensive on the ground while the Patrol Group regrouping near the Mass Relay._

 _The two Turian legions take heavy casualties, but refuse to give up._

 _UNSC Ground casualties on Shanxi are negligible._

 _ **18:55**_

 _Sections of UNSC 7_ _th_ _fleet arrive in-system._

 _ **19:18**_

 _The Turian 25_ _th_ _fleet arrives in-system. Though weakened from a previous conflict with privateers and mercenaries, this still significantly increases Turian military presence near Shanxi._

 _ **20:08**_

 _The Turians prepare for a second attack._

 _~0~_

* * *

 **2024 Hours, November 27** **th** **, 2526 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **UNSC** _ **Hollander**_ **, military staging area in orbit around Shanxi**

Rear Admiral Stephen Hacket, youngest Navy Officer to have been granted that rank in forty years, was going through what could easily be the worst day of his life. Shanxi, one of their most isolated, but promising worlds, had been located by the Covenant. Even as the enigmatic alien Collective was laying waste to Harvest, tied up by the brilliant Admiral Cole, they had opened up another offensive here. A small, preliminary force had engaged the local battlegroup for roughly fifteen minutes before disengaging again, moving to take up defensive positions around the artefact the Office of Naval Intelligence had found.

The artefact…a massive object that was now pulsating with odd, blue light. It had to be alien, some sort of signal. It was too late to shut it down now though. Enemy reinforcements were arriving, and lots of them.

Even as the _Hollander_ was making its way towards the staging point, enemy vessels kept pouring in, all of them ending up very neatly at the rapidly-growing enemy fleet.

Such precise maneuvering was still beyond the UNSC.

Hacket wasn't the only one who thought that the artefact was somehow summoning these ships, but it was too late to order a strike. The enemy owned that thing now. All they could do was hope that the enemy's reinforcements would eventually run out.

He watched the other two dozen ships orbit the planet. Frigates, Destroyers, a Carrier. Nothing that the Covenant couldn't handle. His own ship, a Marathon-class Cruiser, was the fleet's flagship, in command of every single vessel tasked with the defense of Shanxi. At nearly twelve-hundred meters long and covered from stern to stern with Titanium-A battle plating, the ship could take a tremendous pounding. She was armed with two heavy Magnetic Accelerator Cannons and enough Archer missiles to lay waste to an entire country.

Or two Covenant ships.

The MAC was the UNSC's main ship-killer. It fired a superdense ferric tungsten shell. The tremendous mass and velocity of the projectile obliterated most ships on impact.

It wasn't hard to imagine why the brass wanted this system protected. The artefact. It was alien tech, non-Covenant, easily making it the biggest discovery in centuries. It sure was the most important one.

Shanxi couldn't fall. Mankind could not allow it to. But, against these odds?

Rear Admiral Hacket stared at the enemy fleet, displayed on one of his screens. Seventy warships. Seventy Covenant warships. The largest fleet anyone had ever laid eyes on. Normally, a mere tenth of such a massive fleet could make short work of every UNSC battlegroup.

Normally. Evidently, nothing about this battle was normal. The previous skirmish had seen the destruction of two UNSC ships, while at the same time costing the Covenant seven ships. It had always been the other way around.

The man in charge of keeping Shanxi safe, a certain Captain Richards, had debriefed Rear Admiral Hacket on the battle. The enemy ships -looking exactly like the ones lying in wait near the relay- had deployed troops to the surface of Shanxi, invading the capital city Dorden. Their weapons, armor and even shields had been inferior to what could normally be expected of the Covenant and the local forces had managed to repulse their attack, despite heavy collateral damage.

And then, oddly enough, the alien ships had stopped their attack and retreated towards the artefact to wait for more reinforcements.

Just enough time for the cavalry to arrive.

The probes that the _Hollander_ had sent out were reporting in and the screen displaying their fleet updated itself immediately. They were moving. Seventy-three warships moving straight towards Shanxi.

Stephen Hacket hit the Alpha priority channel and sent a fleet-wide transmission. "Listen up ladies and gentlemen. The Covenant fleet is moving. Keep your positions and make your ships ready for battle."

The enemy fleet rapidly approached the planet, while the rest of the UNSC fleet assumed their phalanx position.

"Lieutenant Harper, warm up our MAC gun and remove the safeties of one of our nukes."

"Aye sir!" replied the Lieutenant.

Hacket turned towards the _Hollander's_ AI, Lorane, and said, "Keep us locked in position and prepare firing solutions and countdown timers in an encrypted package."

The AI, garbed in an ancient Victorian dress, elegantly bowed, lifting the fringes of her dress as she did. "Of course, sire."

Rear Admiral Hacket rolled with his eyes. He knew that Lorane had already complied with his orders the very micro-second he had uttered them, and that the gesture was purely for show, but he still didn't approve of it. It was too easy to mistake her behavior for condescending.

His tactical map displayed each and every single one of the twenty-six UNSC vessels, all of them linked to one of the larger alien vessels. From what he had understood, a single MAC was enough to destroy one of the enemy's ships with ease. Whatever the Covenant was throwing at them this time, they seemed to have foregone the chilling quality of their larger vessels to drown them with smaller ones.

Well, Hacket had a surprise for them.

"Lieutenant Almer, sound decompression alarms in all nonessential sections and then empty them."

"Aye sir!"

The enemy's weapons might not reduce Destroyers to Swiss cheese with single hits, but they had been powerful enough to eventually gut two Heavy Frigates -and the enemy could put a lot of shells downrange.

"Sir, MAC weapon systems are hot! Removing safeties now!" Announced Lieutenant Harper.

"Send the fleet their evasive trajectories," said Hacket. From what he had been told, these enemy weapons, fast as they might be, did not track their targets.

The enemy fleet seemed to outrange the UNSC's, as they opened fire first. At least, their larger ships did. Rear Admiral Hacket spotted one vessel that dwarfed the rest in the fleet. Calculations put it at least a kilometer large. Nothing compared to the likes of Covenant Cruisers and Destroyers, but it still put the defenders to shame. Only the _Hollander_ and their Carrier was larger.

The range of that vessel was so far beyond the rest of the Covenant fleet that it actually stayed behind and allowed the rest of the fleet to move ahead, shelling the UNSC formation with high-speed projectiles.

But the countdown timers had reached zero end and UNSC fleet opened fire as well, in perfect tandem. Frigates first, then Destroyers, then the Marathon. Due to Lorane's calculations, the MAC's would be hitting the enemy fleet at the exact same time, negating the problem that heavier ships fired faster slugs.

More than thirty flashes of thunder flashed through the vacuum of space, racing towards the enemy formation as if eager to nail them.

The enemy's shells impacted first. One Destroyer took the full brunt of the salvo. Explosions flared from the outer hull of the ship and the Destroyer started venting atmosphere. She managed to limp out of the way before the rest of the hyper-velocity shells could rip her apart, barely escaping.

More ships received similar damage, but their hulls remained intact as the thick layer of armor shrugged off the enemy shells.

"Lorane, send the second set of firing solutions and times!"

"As you wish, sire."

The rest of the enemy fleet opened fire as well, after which they started maneuvering out of the way. After seven nerve-wrecking seconds, the MAC's impacted

The _Hollander´s_ projectiles had torn through space at three-hundred kilometers per second, the highest speed current magnetic field coils could reach. They punched through the vessels that couldn't avoid them with ease, then continued on, slamming into other targets with enough force to destroy those too. But these ships were nimble, much nimbler than the high-tonnage Covenant vessels. Up to forty percent of the MAC's missed. Those that did find a target did so with devastating results, obliterating entire ships with even glancing hits.

But the Covenant, as always, never allowed a single victory. The Frigates _Roses are Dead,_ _Popping Balloons_ and _Pacifist_ went up like flares, burning and exploding. At least one other Destroyer took heavy damage.

But just like Richards reported, the Covenant's fleet was vulnerable. Too vulnerable, in fact. Even the smaller warships could normally take one to two MAC's before their shields dropped. These ones were annihilated with single hits. Eighteen enemy vessels blinked out of existence on Hacket's screen.

"What did they just hit us with?" Asked Hacket.

Lorane, being the very model of an Artificial Intelligence, instantly reported in with an analysis of the alien projectiles. "The enemy appears to fire mass accelerator rounds. The projectiles are estimated to weigh a dozen kilograms at most, but they are fired at relativistic speeds, allowing them to strike with high yields."

"They don't fire plasma…these things are solid?"

"Of course sire, however, I must correct you on one matter. Plasma weapons are in possession of mass as well, implying-"

"How do we defend ourselves against those weapons, Lorane?"

The AI stopped herself from drifting off-topic, as was so characteristic of Smart AI's. "Scans of damage and freeze-framed projectiles indicate that the alien projectiles are designed to shatter upon impact, increasing areas of effectiveness but decreasing penetration. Our ship's armor can withstand multiple impacts without buckling. Our enemy cannot say the same."

That was an understatement.

Still, the enemy had superior numbers and they came close, close enough that neither party would be dodging shots. The long-range slugfest become a close quarters nightmare, as ships engaged each other at ranges of a few thousand kilometers at best. Enough distance that the enemy's projectiles were pretty much guaranteed to hit, while MAC's took a few moments to nail their targets.

Rear Admiral Hacket issued another order. "All ships, break off and engage individual units! Enemy shield power isn't worth a damn, get in close and fire your Archers!"

Archer Missiles. Damn effective against unshielded vessels. Damn useless against Covenant ships. But these ships had proven to be vulnerable to swarms of the Archers during the previous battle. And the _Hollander_ carried a lot of them. The Marathon-class had a grand total of 1820 Archer missiles, spread over twenty-six oversized pods. Each pod could fire seventy missiles and every single one of them could be piloted directly by Lorane.

"Come to heading zero four two, declination two three seven. Arm Archer missile pods A through D and…" he quickly targeted four smaller vessels, designating them as targets. "…Give me a firing solution."

"Sir!" Said Lieutenant Harper. "Firing solution ready, sir."

"Fire."

"Pod A through D firing!"

On screen, the pods opened and launched. A swarm of seventy high explosive missiles raced away from the Marathon, followed closely by three more such swarms. The smaller vessels, a mere tenth the size of the _Hollander_ , were very nimble indeed, but the Archers were guided by the mind of a Smart AI. Every second she spent analyzing the enemy's movements was an eternity of perfecting her tracking capabilities and outmaneuver the enemy. The moment the tiny ships started moving, Lorane steered the missiles - _her_ missiles now- into a new path, cutting off their avenues of escape in a predicted model of where they were heading.

Laser fire nailed some of the missiles, maybe as much as a third when aided by the other alien ships, but the majority still found their targets.

On screen, Rear Admiral Hacket was rewarded with four beautiful explosions.

Stephen Hacket was a calm, collected man. But after two years of alien genocide directed at his species, even the most peaceful man would be driven to vengeance. He watched the alien ships explode with a bitter sense of satisfaction he had never felt since the last major Insurrectionist terror attack.

That was, until he spotted about twenty of the smaller vessels breaking off and heading towards the planet. They were so fast that the _Hollander_ couldn´t possibly turn around fast enough to nail those vessels.

He hit the Alpha Channel. "Lead to all vessels, enemy fleet is breaking off to send ships towards Shanxi. Any able ships, move to intercept!'

It was no use. The defense fleet was unable to acquire the smaller vessels before they entered the atmosphere, with two likely goals in mind. Planetary bombardment and troop deployment.

Shanxi was invaded.

Again.

~0~

* * *

 **Council Tower, Citadel -Serpent Nebula**

The walls were trembling under duress, the ceiling was on the verge of collapsing and the tough, elite guards were fearing for the future of all sentient species.

Hidden away from the prying eyes of the masses in a chamber that didn't exist, protected by veteran guards that had no identity, the three mightiest individuals in Council Space were holding a heated discussion the likes the galaxy had not seen since the time of the Krogan Rebellions.

The Citadel Council was discussing…themselves.

Inside of the room, the tension could be cut with a cricket stump. The news of the 124th Scout Patrol had spread through the rest of the Fleets like a wildfire. A conflict, relatively small in scale, had led to the destruction of two Heavy Cruisers, four Frigates and a legion's worth of ground casualties. A total of at least two-thousand Turian deaths were already officially reported, while secondary reports of casualties were sure to add to that list.

Sparatus was not amused.

At first the Salarian Councilor, Valern, had attempted to dismiss the claims of a new species capable of utilizing non Element Zero technology for their FTL, but the Turian Councilor would not have anything like that. He dismissed Valern's dismissal with impunity and then activated his omni-tool to project a report on the specially-tailored table.

He would direct this personally.

"Valern, Tevos," he began. "I…we have found a new race."

Tevos exchanged a look with Valern. "So we've heard."

Sparatus didn't meet their eyes. "When we last met, we discussed the implications of a new race activating dormant Relays. It was decided that the Turian 124th Scout Patrol be sent through to…estimate the situation."

The Asari Councilor nodded. "Estimate, indeed. So tell me, Sparatus, how an estimation escalated into two-thousand casualties for the Turians?"

Sparatus recoiled, as if stung. "H-how did you-?"

"STG reports, of course," replied Valern. He didn't blink an eye. "You know that we can always find out what we want, when we want."

"And what we found out, greatly disturbed us," said Tevos. She raised an eyebrow and glanced at the Turian Councilor, observing his emotional response. "You went through the Relay without waiting for the representatives of the other Council races. Worse, you encountered a new species. A new species you proceeded to send an entire fleet after, breaking _all_ First Contact protocols, and for what?"

Sparatus looked away. "For breaking Council law," he muttered, sounding completely unconvinced of himself. "For tinkering with a Mass Relay." He then nodded, as if reassuring himself. "We approached their vessels with our own, hailing them multiple times and seeking communications! Do you know what happened next? They opened fire! We approached them and they opened fire on our expeditionary force, destroying two Cruisers in their opening salvo!"

"Killed two Cruisers without Element Zero…" Muttered Valern. "Most impressive."

"They "most impressively" _killed_ eight-hundred Turians!" Shouted Sparatus. "And that was only their first strike! The casualties we suffered on the ground-"

"Were a direct result of your breaches of protocol," replied Tevos. She was ever calm, ever serene, but on the inside she was fuming. "You had no right to occupy their world."

"The Council law-"

"Is Council law," interrupted Valern. "And not their law. How could they have known that activating a dormant Mass Relay is illegal? How could they have known that your intentions were "peaceful" as you say, which I highly doubt, knowing the Hierarchy's Doctrine? They were unaware of Citadel law, yet you sought to punish them?"

"Don't you think I don't know that?" Sparatus all but shouted. "Attacking this species because of Citadel law is insane! But when we approached their fleet, they opened fire! They struck first and the fleet demands retribution!"

"Is this retribution worth a war?" Asked Tevos. "Worth all the casualties, all the suffering?"

"They lack Element Zero, Tevos! They built spaceships with weapons rivalling ours without Element Zero! Think if the possibilities of their technology for the Council races, think of the potential of another client race!"

"Another Turian client race would tip the power balance of the Citadel races," Valern dryly commented.

An awkward silence fell between the Councilors as Tevos and Valern realized what was really going on.

"You are being pressured," Tevos then spoke. "Blackmailed, perhaps? By someone who wishes to strengthen the Turian cause?"

Sparatus did not reply.

"Sparatus…as members of the Citadel Council, we are the ultimate authority. Untouchable, incorruptible. Nobody-"

"Ultimate authority, Tevos?" Sparatus bitterly said. "Really? What about the Fall of Omega?"

Tevos' attractive blue skin flushed a deep tint of purple. "That was _two-hundred_ years ago!" She hissed. "And not at _all_ relevant!"

"Perhaps I am being pressured into this conflict, and perhaps that is wrong! But do _not_ act like you are so pure and incorruptible yourself, when a psychopathic warlord slaughtered thousands of Citadel Security personnel at Omega, without ever having been brought to justice! You held your hand above her head!"

Tevos was about to throw back a sharp retort when Valern interfered. "Enough! Councilor Tevos' past transgressions and troubles are _not_ the subject of this meeting! Councilor Sparatus, we need you to call of the Twenty-fifth fleet immediately."

"Preferably before more lives are lost."

The Turian Councilor lowered his head. "I am afraid it is too late for that," he said in a defeated tone.

~0~

* * *

 **2044 Hours, November 27** **th** **, 2526 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Major population center Wierden, Shanxi.**

"Left side! Left side!" Screamed one soldier. Then, he had to dive back behind cover as a hail of sand-sized bullets was sent his way.

Their goal: the protection of the remaining civilian population.

The alien bastards had called in close-air support on them. Parked space vessels right on top of Wierden and then leveled the city with scorching firepower, turning a city that could support three million people into a pile of rubble.

Said rubble still contained the thousands of civilians that hadn't been evacuated in time. And now, a small hundred soldiers had to protect several thousand civvies against an overwhelming alien offensive until the UNSC fleet had finished kicking ass.

They were stuck in the remains of the upper floors of a mall, surrounded by blown-out houses and buildings on all sides. To Sergeant Miller of Tango Company, 2nd Battalion 66th Marine Regiment, that meant trouble. The Marines were the best of the best. Unfortunately, they were only human. Their enemy did not have that problem. Plus, they could land their infantry by the hundreds around the hastily-erected perimeter and call in their air-support whenever they felt like it. The UNSC battlegroup was probably getting its ass kicked in space, giving the Covvie bastards free reign to be ugly and bomb the living shit out of everything that looked human.

The alien troopers looked like a mixture between Covenant Jackels and Elites. Tall, lean, bird-like, ugly and unwelcome.

He wondered what their females looked like.

Luckily, the Marine Corps wasn't alone in this mess. They were fighting side-by-side with the UNSC Special Forces branch M7. The "Monster Unit" consisted entirely out of Liminal species that had undergone rigorous training to turn their racial specialty into an outright facet of war.

While the Marines were holding a fixed position and doing everything they could to defend it, the M7 Special Forces were dominating the battlefield with a healthy mixture of skills, tech and…entrancing movements.

Now Sergeant Miller was a simple man with simple desires. Get up in the morning, drink coffee, kick alien ass, eat breakfast and then start a nice day of kicking alien ass. He, like the rest of the UNSC Marine Corps, remained steadfast in the face of death and could operate perfectly under the duress and threat of body harm and pain.

But the man he was paled in comparison to the ladies of the M7. They laughed at the face of death and _ate_ threats of bodily harm and pain, most likely for breakfast.

Miller knew as much about the M7 forces as the rest of the Marine Corps did; just about nothing except for the rumors and gossip that inevitably followed in their wake. Oh, the main picture was easy enough to understand. The M7 combatants had all graduated from Interplanetary Combatives Training at Reach or Earth and wore specialized equipment in their goal of protecting human lives from alien threats.

But there were also the ODST's, also Special Forces. And the Templar Order had their own Special Forces branch, the Crusaders, which regularly clashed with the M7 because technically, the UNSC and the Templar Order had to stay on good terms with each other and recruiting a Liminal species-only branch would stir up conflicts yet the UNSC still employed the Liminal species-only branch publicly and officially despite-

The Sergeant's head started hurting from pondering his allies and he returned to what he knew: shooting bad guys.

Whatever the deal was with the Liminals and the Templars and the UNSC, Miller was just happy to have the ladies at his side. With them taking the heat off of his overworked squad, he could concentrate on the most important task of all. Keeping the civvies in one piece.

"Watch out!" A Corporal then shouted. "Enemy contact, second story windows!"

True enough, more of the alien bastards had appeared in one of the large buildings across their current position. Sergeant Miller got on the SQUADCOM and alerted the rest of his squad of the new enemy position.

It took the M7 soldiers only ten seconds to bring their considerable firepower to bear on the new enemy position. Most of their soldiers -at least, those that Sergeant Miller had seen- were too large to keep a fixed position and dig down there. They were simply too large to stay concealed. The solved that tactical problem by seemingly never actually _staying_ on the defensive. They probably had goddamn Sunzi as their instructor, as they only ever seemed to go on the offensive.

Case in point. As four alien hostiles were pouring fire down on Miller's position like there was no tomorrow – _don't the bastards ever run out of ammo? -_ one of the M7 soldiers was scaling the sides of the building with laughable ease. She had the lower body of a spider, sleek and black. Her long legs were easily as long as an adult human, allowing her to traverse the several stories in a matter of seconds. When she reached the lower windows, she held her position, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Said right moment came a heartbeat later, when two armored figures clad in what looked like ODST armor swept down from above, tore through the goddamn concrete roof of the building like it was made out of sugar and crashed in top of the alien position with enough force to shatter every single remaining window at the floor

Was that blood, splattering across the walls? All blue and stuff?

The Arachne struck at that exact moment, seizing the remaining alien by his chest and pulling him out of the window. Somehow, she had managed to ensnare the alien's neck within a bundle of nearly-invisible treads, as he didn't fall all the way to the ground, but instead fell a few meters before the threads went taut, presumably breaking his neck.

"Goddamn!" Swore one of the Corporals.

Sergeant Miller swallowed and made an oath never to piss one of these ladies off. "Stop gawking at the real men and reload your damn weapons! Ravens will be back any second now!"

The UNSC Marines had designated these new alien contacts as 'Ravens', because of their bird-like appearance and behavior. Really though, as if the UNSC's home advantage in the air could ever be contested.

Miller watched as the two flying ODST-like soldiers took off again, mentally chastising himself for not spotting the difference before. They had ODST armor covering their heads, torso and upper legs, but that was where the similarities ended. They had wings instead of arms, supported by some sort of light exoskeleton that probably made it easier for them to fly. Their feet weren't really feet, but boots with blue-glowing, sickle-shaped claws.

Harpies, then. Two of them had torn through the ceiling of a moderately-intact building like it had been made out of wet toilet paper, so the Sergeant didn't need to imagine what they could do to soldiers.

Man, having harpy-claws would make this so much easier. At least the shields that these Covenant forces had didn't seem to work with close quarters combat, so at least they had that going for them.

Then, the Sergeant was alerted by his COM once more. " _Second Battalion, this is First Lieutenant MacMillan of Bravo Company, 19th Shock Troops Battalion. We are dropping in hot to the south of Wierden. Recommend you clear out to the North, the city's about to get hit."_

"This is Sergeant Miller. We've got civilians and wounded here, tell the UNSC to call of their air-strike, over. This AO ain't lost yet!"

Someone was shouting at the other end of the link. " _Marine Sergeant Miller, it's not the UNSC. Repeat, not the UNSC. Enemy fighters broke through the Longsword screen and are inbound on your location. You-"_

What the Lieutenant wanted to say next, Miller wound never find out. The air rumbled, the ground exploded and several large objects flew overhead with such force that half the building collapsed on itself.

Explosions, screams. White flashes of fire and collapsing stone. Sergeant Miller barely had the time to scream as his body was flung through the air by the waves of overpressure, straight over the edge of the building-

\- only to come to a sudden stop as something hard and solid raked his torso, pinning him to the ground a mere inch away from the edge, where he would have certainly taken a plummet of eight meters into the cracked pavement below.

Miller groaned and reached for his chest, confident that he had broken a rib. Or seven. But when he looked up to see what the hell had just saved him, the pain seemed to completely fade away.

It was a woman, but not any woman he had ever seen before. She wasn't human; her long, elongated tail, clad in smooth-looking interlocked plates of armor proved that. Her body armor didn't look like any ODST he had ever seen though; her suit looked flexible, yet really sturdy, what with those streamlined plates of armor and angular, fully head-encapsulating combat helmet, with only a few blue lines where her visor was meant to be.

A logo was branded on her right shoulder. M7.

She released her armored boot from his chest and raised her weapon. Miller recognized it as an M90 semi-automatic combat shotgun.

Two beautiful pictures accompanying each other.

"Stay down," she told him, taking aim at one of the alien troopers that had dropped in immediately after the airstrike. "The M7 got this."

Sergeant Miller prioritized pulling out his sidearm over getting up and took aim as well. "Lady. There's a lot you have to learn about the UNSC Marine Corps."

~0~

* * *

 **21:13 Hours, November 27** **th** **, 2526 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Major population center Aozon, Shanxi.**

In the second age of Shanxi, in the second coming of the First Contact war, when the shadows lengthened for one final time, two mighty warriors stood.

One's soul burned by the embers of Harvest, blistered by the fires of the Covenant, he chose the path of incredible combat. In his badass feats, he found no happiness, for there were alien bastards in his house.

Tempered by haughtiness and Turian discipline camps, the other´s soul was stained by bitterness and violence, having chosen the path of kickass during the youngest, bleakest sections of his life. But what else could he expect, from primitives?

The alien warrior strode upon the plains and faced the primitive alien-slayer, and a mighty battle was initiated. In the middle of the burning capital city, surrounded by rubble and bodies, Sergeant Avery Junior Johnson fought a deadly game of hide-and-seek with Legionnaire Saren Arterius. His MA5 assault weapon spat overwhelming amounts of bullets at every shadow, shape and thought that was shaped in the form of an alien while Saren's Phaeston assault weapon punched through every single wall, ceiling and floor where he detected the scent and sound of the primitive.

Like that, the two mighty warriors fought, until the Johnson ran out of ammo, whereupon he did exclaim, "This is how a man reloads!" And committed to reloading his rifle.

The Arterius made use of the zero point four seconds that the Johnson required for his manly reload and emerged from his cover to deliver a most accurate strike at his foe. The Johnson was struck in his chest, but the sand-sized grains that his foe fired upon him failed to penetrate his Arachne string-infused body vest, and he acquired his foe.

His return fire was great and terrible and annihilated all of his opponent's cover. In turn, the Arterius dedicated himself to a leap of faith so grand, so daring, that the Johnson was unable to keep his bullets on-target. As such, their battle was moved to the surface of a large building.

Amidst the complete lack of cover they did battle, unleashing their bullets upon each other with wrath. Stone shattered, footholds cracked and the ceiling they were standing on was soon covered with spent rounds.

It was then, at the moment one´s munition ran out and the other´s weapon overheated, that the ceiling collapsed, sending both titanic warriors into a plummet of several meters. They crashed into the abandoned third floor of a warehouse.

The many plummeting rocks and pieces of metal bothered them not, for one was an utter badass and the other loved the smell of badass.

With their weapons reduced to useless, the two mighty soldiers clashed in an epic duel of close quarters combat. It was at this point that the Johnson finally managed to recover his lost ground, for his skill in kickass was unmatched, not even by the alien warrior.

Violence the Orbital Drop Shock Trooper did upon the alien, punching him seven times in two seconds in his chest, abdomen and alien face.

But the Turian refused to be intimidated by the dark-skinned champion, for his skin was covered with chitinous plates and he himself could take the unholy beating laid down upon him. He caught the primitive mid-swing by his arm and retaliated by punching him too, hard, and a lot of times.

But the Johnson had taken many a hit in his life before. Mankind had worked with genetic modifications for centuries now. Their soldiers were keen, strong, green and very mean. The Johnson brought down his leg upon the alien's skull and did throw him back several meters.

The two were still evenly matched. Saren with his natural claws and Johnson with his natural fists, both were unable to completely kick the other's ass without suffering for it.

Saren grew weary of his competition with the primitive and reached for his knife.

Avery would lay low this alien like he said so and took his cigar out of his mouth.

The two mighty warriors clashed once more. Cigar met steel as their weapons hit each other, locking the two combatants in a deadly embrace.

It was then that Saren made a lethal mistake. He underestimated the power of a Sweet Williams and went in for the kill, foolishly thinking that his body could take the first brunt of the counterattack.

He was wrong. Eight inches of cigar slammed into his face and sent him skidding several meters over the battered floor. Saren came to a rough stop against the wall and struggled to come upright again.

Johnson would have moved in to finish the job, but he was cigarblocked when FLEETCOM saw fit to inform his unit that they were boned.

" _All forces in grid six by eighteen be advised, the enemy is moving into position for an orbital strike. Interceptors are on their way, but a strike is imminent. Evac order April. Repeat, evac order April. Get out of there stat."_

Johnson sighed in exasperation and glanced at the alien badass that had not only managed to keep up with him, but also get in some good hits in return. He really hoped that the rest of his squad would take note of that last order, because he was going to put the pedal to the metal and evac outta that zone like he had never evac'ed before.

Saren Arterius had always been an especially bright soldier. The absolute best of his peers, unmatched in his skill. However, he had not survived this long by means of simply being a good soldier. He was an elite combatant, cunning and driven. The very moment that the primitive alien had retreated, he realized that something bad was going to happen.

The fact that the Turian twenty-fifth fleet reported that they were going to elevate the city block with mass accelerator rounds helped him reach a proper conclusion further.

The key to this riddle was simple. To survive, he would have to get out of this building, out of the street and away from the city as soon as possible. Wherever that alien had gone would be safe. Even if he had to endure that dreaded, smoking melee weapon again.

Saren nodded, convinced that not getting killed by a Turian orbital strike would be the best way to survive.

And with that in mind, he started moving.

~0~

* * *

"Too late?" Asked Tevos. "Sparatus, it is _never_ too late to call off a war! We do not want a war with a species that didn't know better!"

"The fleet has arrived an hour ago," Sparatus said with a weary sigh. "They have been doing battle with this species for at least an hour now."

Horrified, Tevos shook her head. Everybody knew that large-scale spacebattles didn't last much longer than an hour. An hour and a half, at most. History had proven that much.

Valern however didn't seem all that horrified at the implications of the Turians having ruined an entire alien fleet without provocation. "Then, I assume victory was achieved quickly? Perhaps we can still explain this to this new species."

"Ehm…"

"I take it Turian casualties weren´t so bad…"

"I…"

"And that the ground invasion is going smoothly?"

Tevos needed but one glance at the Councilor's guilty, embarrassed face to know that the truth was far more complicated. "How many casualties, Sparatus."

"I was informed of the destruction of half the 12th and 14th Legions…"

Councilor Valern grunted. "Hmm…that isn't so bad."

"…before the clash with their main fleet started."

Tevos frowned. "Wait…these casualties were from the fringe conflict? From their defense fleet, without reinforcements?"

With a weary heart, Sparatus started explaining. "Fleet Commander Tarankus and General Levitcus, both in charge of the 124th Scout group in charge of investigating Relay 314, went through. There, they encountered a primitive species that did not utilize Element Zero. They assumed this species primitive, and moved to…pressure them into standing down."

"You mean bully them into submission?" Clarified Tevos.

Sparatus clicked with his mandibles in a frustration. "They assured me that they could handle it without violence."

"How many vessels did the enemy possess?" Asked Valern.

"Our battlegroup existed out of four Heavy Cruisers and seven Frigates. Theirs existed out of five Cruiser-tonnage ships, one of which their flagship. We lost six ships and they lost two."

"A most worrying development," said the Salarian Councilor. He sounded calm, but inwardly, his mind was racing to process what it meant that a primitive species could beat back a turian battlegroup with half their numbers, without Element Zero.

How, he wondered. Just…how? The lack of Eezo would prohibit the use of Mass Accelerator shells. They wouldn't go fast enough to cause actual damage. What would possibly fuel their ships, their weapons? Did they have FTL?

Yes, they did, because they had reinforcements. But how? How?

"And this battle?" Asked Tevos. "How fares your Fleet now?"

"The twenty-fifth Fleet is suffering casualties," Sparaturs dryly replied. "Of the seventy-three warships, over thirty-five have been destroyed. I have live reports here." He activated his omni-tool and 'flung' the files over towards his two colleagues with a flick of his wrist. "Their weapons are projectile based. Our kinetic barriers _do_ recognize them, but…"

"But?" Inquired Valern. He opened his own file and read it through in two seconds.

"But in the same way an Agent mk.I recognizes a Widow armor-piercing sniper round."

Tevos, not experienced with military jargon, took a few moments to understand what that meant. "Goddess…they're punching through your kinetic barriers? What manner of weapon are they using?"

"Interesting..." Valern said as he replayed the footage of a Cruiser getting struck by an alien projectile in the slowest possible mode on his omni-tool. The ship was dealt a hammerblow and its barriers flared for the barest of moments before overloading and flickering out of existence. Did the ship crumple before or after the barriers failed? Interesting…such immense kinetic force...

The scientist in Valern overtook the diplomat in him. "The design suggests a Mass Accelerator cannon with less speed, but massive rounds. Or a Magnetic Accelerator, perhaps."

"Our Frigates can dodge their rounds at great distance," said Sparatus. "But our Dreadnaught wasn't fast enough to evade their fire."

The footage was played from the magnification of the aft camera of a Cruiser, the _Menae's Wind._ It clearly showed the Dreadnaught taking a glancing hit. Its barriers -easily the most powerful kinetic barriers that a warship could carry, safe for specialized designs- managed to repulse the slug, but at a cost. The side of the ship was heavily damaged, several decks were breached and its shields were nearly overloaded.

"Our Dreadnaught had to retreat," Sparatus then concluded. "And soon, the rest of the fleet will have to retreat as well, if Tarankus wants to live."

Tevos watched footage of one of the alien ships getting struck with mass accelerator rounds. It was a black vessel, as large as a Turian Cruisier, with a distinctive arrowheaded form. It surprised Tevos to see that it didn't have any kinetic barriers or other form of shielding to protect it; the slugs easily hit its hull and…well, nothing.

"How many casualties did your fleet inflect?" Asked Tevos.

"As of now, our fleet destroyed six of their vessels and damaged another five. These ships might lack barriers, Councilors, but their armor is significant. It takes multiple successive hits to breach it and our ships cannot come too close."

"Why not?" Inquired Valern.

Sparatus tapped a few buttons and uploaded another vid. "Because of _these_."

One alien vessel, the same arrowhead-design as the damaged one, came within a few thousand kilometers' distance of the Turian Cruiser _Legionnaire_ and promptly unleashed a wave of what looked like oversized torpedoes or missiles. Not one, not a dozen, but literally a hundred missiles that sped towards the _Legionnaire_ at frightening speeds and, when the Cruiser took evasive action, actually performed a U-turn to keep track of it.

GARDIAN Lasers nailed dozens of them, but more than half of the projectiles slammed into the Cruisier, overwhelmed the kinetic barriers and obliterated it.

"How many-"

"A hundred and twenty high-explosive missiles," said Valern. He had quickly counted the missiles while Tevos was busy processing the idea of a ship that could unleash such an arsenal. "Primitive, yet effective."

"Primitive, yet effective, doesn't do this species justice," growled Sparatus. "Their weapons remind me of the Krogan Rebellions, but more refined. More elegant. They take their level of technology and perfect it."

"Good hypothesis. They don't use Element Zero, but compensate with massive slugs. They don't use lasers, but compensate with large volleys of explosives. They don't have shields…"

"And compensate with thick ship armor," finished Tevos. This Krogan connection sent shivers down her spine. She had personally seen the result of the Krogan need for expansion, even though she hadn't actually experienced it. Every Councilor had visited the war-torn fields, the barren planets. "Councilors, it is _vital_ we end this conflict before it escalates!"

"I have ordered Fleet Commander Tarankus to break off the attack," said Sparatus. "But General Levitcus…"

Tevos could have groaned in frustration. Levitcus…she knew that name and she did _not_ like the Turian General one bit. "What of Levitcus?"

"He personally went planetside with several legions to subjugate the population in an attempt to make the fleet surrender," said Sparatus.

Tevos was aghast. "Sparatus… _please_ tell me that he did not inflect needless civilian casualties. _Tell me_ that he did not authorize orbital strikes on their cities!"

Sparatus flinched. He was a politician, yes, but he was also a soldier. He had fought for seven years in one of the more bloody Turian civil wars. He had seen atrocities committed on innocent people and it had shattered his believes in the perfection of the Turian military. "General Levitcus -without verifying my orders- commanded several mass accelerator orbital strikes against major population centers and invaded at least three of their larger cities."

" _Goddess!_ "

Sparatus held out both of his hands to stop the Asari Councilor from further ripping into him. "But the majority of their civilian population had already left the planet."

Tevos blinked. "What?"

Valern started formulating several hypotheses to clarify a reason for that maneuver, but kept them to himself.

"The second the 124th Scout Patrol entered their system, the civilians started evacuating. Reports are unclear, as the distance was so great, but we detected a great deal of traffic from their planet."

Tevos was skeptical. "They started evacuating the world the moment they detected you? Were they planning on a conflict?"

"We did not contact them until well after they detected us and took up their formation. They simply started leaving upon seeing our ships, as if…"

"As if knowing that they would be invaded?" Tevos accusingly said.

The Turian Councilor sighed. "I ordered the first invasion in an attempt to discover more about their species, yes, but I never ordered the second one!"

"How large is this second invasion?" Asked Valern. He was relieved to hear that civilian casualties might be negligible due to the remarkable and very odd foresight of the alien, but the Turians had still bombed major population centers.

More files, more vids. "General Levictus communicated with Fleet Cimmander Tarankus and had nineteen Frigates drop their troops above the surface of the planet. Each ship carried five-hundred soldiers, several armed vehicles and gunships."

"An invasion of ten-thousand Turian soldiers with dozens of armed vehicles and dozens of gunships?" Asked Tevos. "Sparatus, that is a declaration of war! You bombed their homes, destroyed their ships, killed their people! This must stop!"

"I know it must!" Hissed Sparatus. "I ordered the fleet to retreat, commanded the army to either pull back or surrender. I have received no response!"

"Are you still being pressured?" Said Valern. "How do we know you are not lying?"

"Because I _am_ still being pressured," replied Sparatus. "And before you ask, I will take care of that on my _own_. My pride as Councilor -as a _soldier_ \- has been damaged enough. As for my trustworthiness…the twenty-fifth fleet will either retreat, or fail to receive the proper reinforcements, logistics and materials needed to sustain a war, and be destroyed. You may personally send battlegroups to Relay 314 to assure this, I care not if you do."

Tevos looked at her colleague –her friend, whom she had known for years now- and wondered just what was going on within the Turian Hierarchy. All those civil wars…and now _this._ "Maybe the twenty-fifth fleet will fail, maybe not. But while our ships might easily retreat through the Relay, beyond the aliens' reach, the ground forces cannot. And what is to assure me that this army of yours will not destroy more than the alien military units?"

"An important question," added Valern, "is how the gathered Turian forces will respond to their fleet pulling back. Would they give up the ground they won?"

"The answer is simple," Sparatus bitterly said. Another set of files, live from the ground forces that were occupying the alien world. Casualty reports. "Our forces…well, Levitcus' forces now, have been bested and are now attempting an organized fallback."

Bested? By alien soldiers? Had they accidentally stumbled upon a new species like the Krogan, or the Rachni? Oh, this was _not_ good!

"Bested seems like the wrong description," said Valern. "Your forces were completely stonewalled. How did this happen?"

~0~

* * *

"All M7 forces push forwards!"

Operative "Sigma" knew that there had to be at least hundreds of the aliens left. No matter; they would either be forced out of the capital city or be completely wiped out. A simple choice, really. Life or death. She was merely here to remind the aliens to pick a little bit more hastily.

The Dragon-girl, clad in her M7 armor, commanded the spearhead of the counter-attack. The UNSC soldiers had broken the alien's siege with precision, surgical strikes by inserting Orbital Drop Shock Troopers behind their lines, effectively catching them in a pincer maneuver between the besieged city and the invading army.

And when the girls of the M7 had picked their targets…well, Sigma had expected the Covenant's troopers to be _sturdier_ than this.

She all but leapt at the closest hostile, her body armor easily shrugging off the small burst of fire he managed to send her way. Against Covenant Plasma, the Arachne-crafted segments of her suit would have burned up. But these aliens didn't seem to fire Plasma, which made the melee all the easier to pull off.

Sigma grabbed a hold of her enemy's rifle, tore it out of its hands as if she were robbing a teen of his knife and discarded it without as much as glancing at the alien weapon. The second she removed its gun, she followed up with two straight jabs at the alien's face, bloodying it.

It attempted to strike back with a knife, but Sigma allowed the blade to bounce off of her armored forearm and slugged the alien's head with enough force to crack its neck.

The corpse slumped to the ground and Sigma moved on without breaking stride. She pumped her Shotgun and fired off two shots at one of the hostiles that attempted to open fire on her, then leapt over a crumbled wall, her muscular legs easily propelling her several meters into the air.

This was her first actual operation against the Covenant and she was _thrilled_. Thrilled to finally spill alien blood, thrilled to finally test her considerable skills against real enemies, not the sniveling, cowardly thrash that she had been fighting against for the past four years now.

Atop the wall stood three more of the aliens that had, until a moment ago, been suppressing a group of Marines with their rapidly-firing weapons.

Sigma wasn't really fond of human males, but these humans belonged to the M7 forces. They were her responsibility and their deaths would stain her honor and pride. Besides; they were soldiers, and she had a healthy respect for human soldiers. So weak, so vulnerable, more tenacious than Large Breed Arachnes when pushed.

The Dragon-girl smirked underneath her collapsible helmet as she struck. She closed the distance between herself and the three hostiles in the time it took her heart to contract and wrapped her tail around the slim midsection of the first alien, easily crushing its armor and presumably the bones and organs underneath. She then reached out and grabbed a hold of the second alien's head. Normally,her claws were sharp enough to rend steel, but upon her graduation to the M7 Special Forces, she had been outfitted with more…enjoyable tech. Her gauntlets ended in diamond-coated claws, which she put to great use. She ripped through the alien's neck with a contemptuous gesture, carving through flesh and arteries.

The alien fell to its knees, gurgling horribly, drowning in its own blood. The third hostile barely managed to get its rifle up before Sigma nailed it as well, slamming her armored tail against its head and following up with a stop-kick to its chest, denting its armor and probably damaging its chest cavity.

Did these things have chest cavities? Biology wasn't her thing.

The alien stumbled backwards, its talons clawing at something that wasn't there. Sigma observed its movements for a few moments before deciding to finish it off. She shifted her weight to her hind leg and, in a feat of acrobatic skill that she and her species took _much_ pride from, snapped out with her front leg. She grabbed the alien by its head with her clawed boot and then smashed its skull against the concrete roof, cracking open its skull like a Harpy egg.

Sigma smirked. Too easy.

Her charge through enemy lines was followed by several other Draconic species. She spotted a Wyvern leaping from one point to the other, drawing alien fire but never staying in one position long enough to actually get hit. The shooters distracted by her maneuvers in turn were ambushed by the Arachne Shock Troopers that traversed the bombed-out ruins in the city with laughable ease, outflanking their opponents before they even knew that they _had_ a flank.

Sigma walked up to the edge of her newly-acquired vantage point and, through her Head-Up Display, opened up the tiny ports in the back of her armor that allowed her to spread her wings. The EXO-components immediately unfolded and attached themselves to the metallic implants in her bone, linking her wings up to the rest of her suit.

Dragons were very capable fliers, contested only by Harpies. But there were no flying Harpies in this spearhead; there was only Raptor squad, tearing through the alien lines at speeds of up to forty kilometers per hour, dealing death-blows left and right with the diamond-coated blades attached to their blades. Without them, Sigma doubted that the Raptors could have gotten through the alien armor. Their talons were fine and all -sickle-shaped was the best- but modern armor tech demanded more finesse. Like prying open a shellfish instead of crushing it.

They left the crushing part to the more specialized members of their teams.

Though, Sigma had to admit, sometimes there was nothing more enjoyable than a little bit of bone-crunching. After all, the Covenant had already inflected multiple millions of casualties. Nobody would mind a little bit of revenge, would they?

~0~

* * *

"Alien subspecies?" Exclaimed Tevos. "What in the name of the _Goddess_ are you talking about? Did we engage a collective of alien species or just one?"

"I told you that we do not know!" Shouted Sparatus. "Our initial strike teams were swiftly eliminated when the civilian population joined the local military."

"Wait," replied Tevos. "Civilians eliminated Turian soldier? Civilians? _Turian soldiers?"_ No matter how many times she repeated herself, no matter how she pronounced the words, she could not organize the sentence in a way that made sense to her. Perhaps Krogan civilians could beat Turian soldiers in close quarters, but…how?

Heavens, she had asked herself that single question a dozen times for the past hour…

"These 'civilians' possess physical abilities found only in the Krogan!" Countered Sparatus.

"Were they undercover soldiers?" Asked Valern.

"We have dismissed that claim."

The Salarian cursed under his breath. No countering that argument.

"There is one point of light in this mess. Thanks to the brave effort of one ship Captain, we have managed to establish a safe-zone. Captain Solitus went above and beyond his duty to personally accompany his soldiers on the ground and contact a group of wounded alien soldiers. Somehow, he managed to keep them from immediately shooting him and his team and they were quick to create a camp where both Turian as alien soldiers can tend to their wounded without killing each other."

Tevos made a mental note to remember the name of this brave soul and perhaps even forward it to the Spectres. "Then all is not lost. Sparatus, make sure that this neutral zone receives all the medical supplies and personnel it can! We must keep it if we are to broker peace!"

"I have no control over this situation anymore, remember?" Countered Sparatus. "Though one other Captain showed the same foresight to attempt to cease hostilities. Even during the first conflict, he bravely steered his Cruiser in front of its sister-ship, cutting off her line of fire and placing himself and his crew in mortal danger."

"Excellent," said Valern. "How did your Scout Patrol reward his brave-"

"They threw him in the brig, called for reinforcements and continued the attack."

"-actions." Valern sighed. "Sometimes, I wish the Turians maintained more subtle Doctrines in their navy."

"But outside that safe-zone, our forces are being routed from all possible theaters. These species…we managed to collect some information on them, including their appearance, but…I have no idea what I am dealing with here."

With that, Sparatus shared his last collection of data. Vids, images, everything he had.

And when Tevos, Valern and Sparatus started analyzing these images more closely, it became clear why the ground invasion was going nowhere. What they saw, sent shivers down their collective Council spines. It also intrigued them to no end.

The creatures they were fighting couldn't be identified as one species at all! Some of the alien soldiers were fully suited up, with bodies of roughly the same proportions as Asari. Others were only lightly armored, revealing pale, Asari-like faces of different tints. Light, dark and every variety in-between. Their helmets made it difficult to judge whether the connections to the Asari ended there.

To Valern, this was most intriguing. An alien species that looked so closely like the Asari? An evolutionary cousin or something? Perhaps more closely related? Or were the morphological characteristics a fluke? Some galactic coincidence?

To Tevos, this was most intriguing as well as disturbing. Apart from the obvious resemblance to her species, these aliens were fully capable of going toe-to-toe with Turian soldiers and best them as well. Not only that, they had been wronged. Very much so. Every single casualty that had been inflected upon them was the direct result of a conflict that by all rights should not have occurred.

To Sparatus, this was just disturbing. Apart from the obvious resemblance to the Asari and the fact that the aliens were fully capable of going toe-to-toe with Turian soldiers and best them as well, he wondered how they would retaliate. Because what he saw made him very much doubt that the Hierarchy soldiers could stop them in a fair fight.

Apart from the Asari-shaped aliens, there other aliens too, much less Asari shaped. The Councilor played the last footage of what 7th Squad of the _Vigilance_ would ever see. A figure, roughly Asari-shaped, but with a long, thick tail, covered with scales, tore through their ranks. Her -for the rather distracting assets definitely betrayed the soldier's gender- claws easily tore through Turian hardsuits and chitinious skin. With her tail, she struck one of the Legionnaires and broke his leg.

One of them managed to score a hit on her prehensile tail, but the scales deflected the bullets. The scales. Deflected. The bullets.

The reactions of the Councilors were…mixed.

"Fascinating…" Whispered Valern.

"Is that what their females look like?" Wondered Tevos.

"SHE'S BLOCKING BULLETS WITH HER NATURAL HIDE!" Roared Sparatus. He caught himself speaking a bit louder than he should have and corrected himself. "I suppose I should refresh your memories. _Krogan plates_ don't fully protect them against small arms fire."

By the time the female was done slaughtering their soldiers, a few more seconds had passed. One Turian attempted to bash her skull in, but it only seemed to infuriate her. Spirits, she even killed one of them by biting his throat out! What manner of monsters were these creatures?

"I think it is safe to suppose that these beings are _not_ Asari," said Sparatus.

"Well, perhaps this is merely how their females fight?" Replied Valern. "In some indigenous species on Sur'kesh for example, the females are more dangerous than the males."

Sparatus blankly stared at him before playing the footage of another squad, escorting an APC. An armored, shielded, heavily-armed APC. Soldiers ambushed the vehicle and launched a missile at it, which the kinetic barriers of course stopped. The escorting squad immediately returned fire on the ambushers, but the purpose of the assault hadn't been to destroy the APC.

At least, not with explosive weaponry.

Out of nowhere, one of the soldiers was killed by a monstrous-looking beast. The upper part of its body wasn't that bad, still resembling an Asari body, but with a pale pigment and multiple dark eyes. She had dark-red fur covering the top of her head and she was clad in what looked like a hardsuit, but without barriers.

Her lower body however, was a completely differenty story. It was large, monstrous and _large_. And monstrous! Eight heavy, armored legs, covered with a thin layer of red fur as well, and a large, horizontal abdomen. The creature was as large as an Elcor, but many times more mobile. With a weapon obviously designed for close combat, she -for this one too possessed Asari assets, larger than any Sparatus had ever seen- opened fire on the Turian squad and then proceeded to attack the APC. Its kinetic barriers did nothing to stop an assault of this nature and the vehicle was helpless before her onslaught. She took a hold of the turret and, after wrapping her many legs around the APC's frame, proceeded to actually bend the barrel, preventing the vehicle from firing.

And then she started tearing open the hatch.

"Oh _Goddess!"_ Shouted a very distraught and horrified Tevos. "What is _that!"_

Valern leant in closer, observing the monstrous female. "Hmm…facial structure faintly attractive. Asari resemblance present, even here. Her legs must be a weak point; they wouldn't armor her up if it wasn't."

Sparatus wanted his fellow Councillors to refer to the beast with 'it' but the creature was obviously even more female than Tevos was, in an Asari way.

He pitied the male soldiers now more than ever. There was no saying what horrible needs a creature like this would have!

"It doesn't end here," Sparatus then declared. "While there are some male variants to be found, the vast majority of the male soldiers resemble us in their physiology. Two arms, two legs and an Asari-like face. The females, however, are predominantly…not Asari-like."

The Turian Councillor didn't have a lot of footage, but he had examples enough from snapshots taken by quick-thinking soldiers with functioning omni-tools. Flying creatures with claws on their hind-legs, so sharp that even soldiers with holographic armor and omni-shields couldn't defend against them. Creatures whose lower bodies existed out of many meters of serpentine tails, who could slither around fast enough to throw off the Turians' aim and ensnare them in a punishing, crushing embrace.

One of the teams had even reported a parasitic being made entirely out of some sort of viscous fluid. A sort of…slime-woman.

Had they made the terrible mistake of attacking some sort of collection of alien species? An intergalactic Empire rivalling the Turian Hierarchy in military power?

"Where did these reinforcements come from again?" Valern asked, probably sensing the same problem.

"Not from the Relay," replied Sparatus. "And therein lies my greatest concern. These ships appeared out of nowhere, but only spatial distortions to betray their emergence. They appeared a hundred thousand kilometers away from the planet and then closed in on the planet in the hour that followed. Our ships are faster in sublight, but…"

"They did not use the Mass Relay," said Tevos. "And therein lies all the difference in the world. Sparatus, if you have not done so already, send the word to General Levitcus and Fleet Commander Tarankus to break off their attack right now! If we somehow tumbled upon multiple alien species at once…Sparatus, I want an Asari diplomatic shuttle there _at once!_ "

"These orders were given even before the twenty-fifth fleet engaged," replied Sparatus. "As soon as I have dealt with my problem, I will have Levitcus and Tarankus by their quills!"

"In the meantime," said Valern, "I suggest we look at this Captain Solitus. I can only imagine what manner of wonders he must be seeing in the neutral zone right now."

~0~

* * *

 **Unknown System, 2157**

" _He belongs to me!"_ Cried the large, eight-legged female, pulling the wounded soldier towards her chest.

" _No way stubbs! You had your chance and you blew it!"_ Yelled the strange female with stitches on her body, pulling the wounded soldier back towards her chest.

If only Solitus could understand what they were saying! What manner of ethical discussions they were committing themselves to, what sort of difficult medical procedures were they debating?

The Turian Captain was very aware of himself, here in the middle of the camp filled with alien civilians and soldiers.

The Spirits had been kind to him this day, and the alien soldiers had seen his lack of weapons as a sign that he was not here to harm them. They had a concept of prisoners of war and treated him and his squad well.

He was pretty certain that one needed to be very insane to pull something in here. There were so many alien creatures around that any Turian dumb enough to act hostile would immediately, quickly and painfully be killed.

It was somewhat strange to him. No Turian had ever willingly surrendered in a war like this before. After this conflict was over done with, his ranking as a soldier would follow. Perhaps, after a few years, he might be able to press paperwork in a distanced colony. But he was alright with that. If that was the price of peace, it was worth it.

Solitus watched as the alien male gave a sudden shout of alarm and, presumably, pain, forcing the large female creature to drop him to the ground. It was obvious that the odd-looking female did not know her strength.

There were so many different creatures here. Large ones with multiple legs, shorter ones with long, armored tails and wicked-looking talons. Females whose entire lower bodies existed out of a long, scaly tail, females with wings, females with single eyes, females with the lower bodies of four-legged animals. It dazzled him what sort of diversity he saw in this army! All of the had the same general face of an Asari, though they seemed to have much more fur and…well, other physical aspects.

One of the female soldiers ran past him, bleeding and riddled with bullet-wounds. Her wounds were not the cause of her haste, much to Solitus' amazement, but rather the wounded soldier she was carrying along with her. How many wounds could these creatures take? Were they like Krogan, in that they regenerated? Didn't the Turian micro-scaled mass accelerator weapons hurt these females? Or were they just that disciplined?

Or was the integrity between the units this tight? Turian officials would frown at the displays of open affection, calling it fraternization. But if it made these aliens such an effective fighting force…well, fraternization or not, it worked.

The aliens threw dirty glares at Solitus and his fellow Turians, even as they helped to distribute medical equipment and tend obvious wounds. They were kept under strict supervision, of course.

The same couldn't be said for the twenty-fifth fleet. The alien had taken his weapons, but not his omni-tool, and he was still receiving messages from his loyal soldiers. The fleet was being halted at every turn. If the battle in space continued like this, the two fleet would annihilate each other. Why hadn't the Council stepped in yet? Why were they continuing this slaughter?

As the aliens continued tending to their wounds and -presumably- instructing their brothers-in-arms to not shoot the Turian soldiers, the message that Solitus had been waiting for, for so long. For the first time in the many hours he had been at the surface of this planet, he received _good_ news.

The Council had stepped in and ordered Fleet Commander Tarankus to pull back immediately. The twenty-fifth fleet was breaking up and Command was unable to retrieve the soldiers already on the ground.

He was stuck here. Solitus didn't know how to feel about that.

One of the aliens kept disturbing him though. A strange creature, without a true, solid body. Blue and green in color, too cheerful to be an adult, too…well-developed to be a child. According to Asari biology, at least.

The odd creature happily surged towards him and attached herself to Solitus' arm, completely engulfing his limb within her slimy body.

It didn't even feel all that uncomfortable. It felt…somewhat nice, actually. Cool, soothing to his skin. When he tried to gently pull free though, he encountered resistance. Her body seemed to suck at his arm.

Solitus sighed and observed the strange creature. She seemed sentient enough, as she had a face and limbs. But she also had an odd tentacle with a bioluminescent sphere at the end of it, seemingly existing for the sole purpose of molesting his face.

As pleasant as the strange contact with the creature was, the Captain didn't like being handled like this. For one, there was the chemical barrier between their species that this creature was probably forgetting about. Would he cause her an allergic reaction?

Would she cause _him_ an allergic reaction?

Several present soldiers glared at the two of them, no doubt alert for any hostile action on Solitus' part. They wouldn't find any. He was a soldier, not a taker of innocent lives.

And this strange little creature seemed much too gleeful to actually hurt him-

The alien wrapped her arms around his chest and engulfed his head within her body, trapping him within her gelatinous body.

And then he was suffocating.

Thankfully, several aliens sped towards them and went at work to separate the girl from her newest plaything. One of them spoke to her and managed to coax the girl to release his face…

…whereupon she promptly latched onto one of the other female soldiers, wrapping her strange tendrils around the unfortunate winged creature's body and-

"Oh," Solitus said, feeling rather warm and tense all of a sudden. "How inappropriate."

Nobody moved to help the winged female, but they did look away, as if this wasn't some sort of freak accident. As if this happened frequently.

The Turian Captain gained the attention of one of the male soldiers. An individual with wrinkled skin and a scar that ran across his cheek.

Solitus nodded at the man and then placed his right hand against his chest. "Turian," he said. The sooner negotiations started, the sooner the trapped soldiers on this world could stop fighting.

The alien glanced at him, the soft pieces of fur above his eyes narrowing near the center.

"Turian," Solitus continued. He then gestured at one of his squadmembers. "Turian."

The alien nodded, as if understanding, but did not respond.

Well. At least he tried. Hopefully, the Asari would be less forceful than the Hierarchy had been. Judging by the odd interactions between the males and the females in this army, this alien species would probably like the Asari better anyway.

Though right now, Solitus wondered if he could ever look at an Asari the same way again.

~0~

* * *

Sparatus, Tevos and Valern tensely waited until they received the final report of the twenty-fifth fleet. The ground reports were still unclear and, in some aspects, even contradicting each other, but for now, the battle in space had reached its conclusion.

Of the original seventy-three warships only twenty-one remained. Fifty-two had been destroyed in the short battle above the alien planet, while the aliens had lost eleven ships. Fleet Commander Tarankus had perished during the retreat, staying behind with the _Palavan's Lance_ to buy the rest of his ships time to get back to the Mass Relay. He had died in a ball of nuclear fire as the aliens demonstrated their understanding of radiation weapons.

The casualties were staggering. Ten Cruisers and forty Frigates, gone. Two-hundred strike vessels, destroyed. The defeat of the twenty-fifth fleet had cost the Hierarchy more than eight-thousand lives, and that was excluding the ground casualties.

The death of the Fleet Commander was the only way for his family to live on without shame. Though, despite his intense dislike of Commander's brutal ways, Sparatus secretly admired Tarankus for dying the way he did. An atonement for his crimes, for his mistakes? Perhaps. He had at least chosen the honorable path.

"It is finished," Sparatus quietly said. He wanted to take this moment to remind himself of the consequences of his failures, but mourning, of both his own dead as the aliens', would come later.

"You have my condolences, Sparatus," Tevos kindly said. "You made the right decision in the end."

"Indeed," Added Valern. "To remain and fight to the last ship would have been even more disastrous, both in casualties as in the message you would have send. By pulling back your forces, you have demonstrated this species that you are not interested in senselessly wasting lives to fight them. Now, they know that they are dealing with a species capable of reason."

An important a message as any, Sparatus supposed. "I shall atone for my mistakes later. Tevos, have you sent your envoy?"

The Asari Councilor nodded. "They were standing by since your Scout Patrol went through Relay 314. They shall arrive within four hours."

Despite Tevos' remark about the envoy being something he hadn't expected, Sparatus still sighed in relief. Perhaps, the damage he had wrought would not be permanent. "The situation on the ground is still the same, but members of both the Turian military as the alien soldiers have attempted rudimentary communications with each other. They have a solid concept of sane and honorable laws of war. We can make this work."

"Of course we can," replied Tevos. She was smiling now. "I very much doubt that anything stands in the way of peace. After all, this is most likely their first contact with an alien species. Even after this unfortunate conflict, how distrusting can they be?"

"Indeed," said Valern. "One alien species might frighten them, but the Citadel species are a collective. The more faces, the better their reaction will be."

Sparatus nodded, seeing the sense of his fellow Councilors. What reason could this new species have to fear multiple alien species?

~0~

* * *

 **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: WARFARE: ORGANIZATIONS: M7 Special Forces**

The UNSC M7CF, the "Monster" Commando Forces, is the newest branch of the UNSC Special Forces division, founded in the late twenties after Covenant ground forces displayed abilities and technology far beyond normal UNSC forces. They are part of a volunteer-only unit, directly subordinate to Unified Ground Command and indirectly to UNSC High Command. They are deployable anywhere and under any circumstance, conducting all conceivable missions from the full spectrum of special operations, including counter-terrorism and open warfare.

M7 forces are unorthodox in the sense that they select and recruit only Liminal species individuals. The best and brightest are chosen from military or civilian sectors and then subjected to an intense and grueling training course existing out of four phases. This training is tailored to the Liminal soldier's racial specialties to further boost their area of expertise.

Because of their elite but relatively-uncommon nature, the M7 forces are outfitted with the most advanced gear in the UNSC's arsenal.

~0~


	4. 1,2: Daily life with negotiations

**02:44 Hours, November 28** **th** **, 2526 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **UNSC** _ **Hollander**_ **, military staging area in orbit around Shanxi**

 _UNSC Everdead -destroyed._

 _UNSC Passion Play – destroyed_

Within his personal quarters, Rear Admiral Steven Hackett sighed with each and every casualty report that Lorane uploaded to his screen. Seven hundred lives, lost. And that was merely the opening battle. After the reinforcements had arrived and the actual battle started, the casualties quickly ran into the triple digits.

 _UNSC Roses are Dead -destroyed._

 _UNSC Popping Balloons – destroyed._

 _UNSC Pacifist – destroyed._

 _UNSC Ripper – destroyed._

 _UNSC Armament – destroyed._

 _UNSC Teachers Conflict – destroyed._

The list went on. Twelve vessels, lost with all hands.

A total of five and a half thousand casualties during the conflict with the alien fleet, with another eight hundred Marine casualties and more than ten times that number in civilian casualties. Small losses compared to the casualties of previous engagements with the Covenant, but still…almost fifteen thousand people had perished in the fight. Brave men and women, willing to sacrifice their lives so that others might live.

But they had made the enemy pay. Dearly. Of the original seventy-three enemy warships, only twenty-one had managed to escape back to the artefact. A third of the original fleet.

"Impressive odds, would you not agree, sire?" Said Lorane. "Reports from Shanxi's surface specify that the aliens have been pushed back on every front. Casualties are small, and we have taken many prisoners."

Small casualties…their next of kin would probably disagree. Still, it was an impressive victory. The battlegroup had performed sublimely, though a dozen of their ships required repairs. The _Hollander_ might even need a complete refit, considering the punishment she had taken. "Eleven for us against fifty-two for them." He frowned. "The numbers should have been reversed."

"I acknowledged the reports from the other Commanding Officers, Rear Admiral. The majority expresses surprise and suspicion at this outcome. The minority has reached a most interesting supposition."

Right now, Hackett wanted nothing more than to sit back, take a sip of whiskey and grab a few hours of rest. But he knew that he couldn't; the Covenant might perform a counter-attack any moment now. While their surviving ships still held position at the artefact, more ships would be coming.

They always came.

But they couldn't hold Shanxi like this. Of their original twenty-five ships, a mere ten were still operational. "What "supposition"?"

Lorane seemed most amused when she gave her reply. "That the enemy fleet could not possibly be of Covenant origin."

Hackett immediately forgot his exhaustion and sat straighter in his chair. "You´re going to have to explain that one."

"The enemy weapons, while formidable, were completely different from what the Covenant ships employ. Fortunately, ballistic rounds such as theirs failed to compare against the highly-destructive plasma we usually face. For instance, the Heavy Frigate _Armament_ took four salvos before her superstructure collapsed, whereas as single plasma strike would have sufficed. In addition, their shields, resistant against strike craft as they might be, completely failed to stop our Magnetic Accelerated Cannon shots for the most part. Furthermore, Archer missile swarms proved to be effective as well. Need I remind you how many missiles this very ship fired against an enemy Destroyer-class vessel?"

"Two-hundred," growled Hackett. And they had _barely_ breached that ship's shields, too. An additional MAC strike had been necessary to knock it out.

"And the _UNSC Ripper_ reported that twenty successive strikes were enough to destroy some of the smaller alien vessels. With such differences in armament, defenses and even design, their conclusion does not seem strange."

And despite all of that, they had still lost more than half their fleet. "And on the ground?" Asked Hackett.

The AI gave him a haughty smirk. "Our soldiers proved to be more resistant to the enemy weapons than against the Covenant's weapons."

"That doesn't say much. One plasma bolt to the chest can kill a Liminal," replied the Rear Admiral.

"And yet, we have several reports of direct hits failing to penetrate a soldier's armor. Intriguing, would you not agree?"

Hackett frowned. "No plasma on the ground either?" That was odd, to say the least. Why would the Covenant just give up their technological advantage like that? Their smallest infantry weapons could punch holes in light armor like it was wet tissue paper and slaughter unprepared Marines.

"Captured weapons proved to fire ballistic rounds as well. Just like their warship-mounted weapons, the projectiles have a vastly reduced size compared to ours, but fire at much greater speeds. Our technicians are unable to determine _how_ they fire, however. Multiple recounts of soldiers in the field declared that the enemies never once were forced to reload, yet continued firing indefinitely. "Space Magic" was deemed an apt description for the lesser minds."

The Admiral let that veiled insult against the boys and girls on the ground slide. He was too tired to argue with an AI. There was always something, always a way in which the enemy had the technological advantage over mankind. "I'll let Colonel Fletcher handle the operation on Shanxi. What about this safe-zone I keep hearing about?"

"Hmm…yes, it appears that the odd behavior of the aliens in the initial skirmish was more than an attempt to sow misperception. Thirteen alien individuals went planet-side, located the first Marine squad they found and promptly laid down their weapons. An agreement was soon reached, consensus to prioritize the wounded and establish a perimeter where all individuals seeking a respite from the invasion could take shelter."

Incredible…in the two years since the Covenant had set their sights on mankind's extinction, they had never shown mercy to anyone, not once. They never took prisoners. They only ever killed. "And this safe-zone is still intact? It wasn't a trap?"

"Far from it. It now shelters thirty-four alien individuals, all of whom are helping with supplies, logistics and rudimentary medical care."

Hackett scowled at that. "And the Marines let them? What about sabotage, assassinations?"

"From what I gathered, these aliens are being monitored very closely. However, the situation was sufficiently desperate that all aid was accepted, even if it came from the enemy themselves."

That either suggested honor and compassion, or trickery and deceit. They had to keep a close eye on those individuals as well. "If these aliens aren't Covenant…"

"Their warships and equipment were subpar to the Covenant's previously-documented ones, but the aliens themselves are disciplined and well-trained. They certainly seem more capable than the Grunts we normally see."

"…then this is a First-Contact scenario." A first second contact? Or could this be considered a second first contact? "One that might still be salvaged. Prepare the First-Contact package. We know these things can communicate with us, so let's try and resolve this without bloodshed."

"I have already begun. May I recommend a possible receptor?"

Something told Hackett that Lorane already had. "What do have for me?"

"A new signal. The artefact reactivated a few minutes ago, reinforcing the alien vessels with one additional vessel."

Hackett sighed. Here came the flagship, ready to marshal the fleet and lead another offense…

"Scanners estimate it at sixty meters' length. It is slowly making its way towards a point perpendicular to both fleets, four-hundred-thousand-kilometer distance."

A scout? A stealth vessel with the wrong hardware? "Do we know more about it?"

"Yes sire. It is transmitting its location to our fleet, with a message accompanying it. Shall I play it?"

Hackett nodded. "Do it."

"Very well."

A few moments later, the holographic display replaced Lorane's avatar with the sight of a screen. Data that came from the _Dragonsbreath._ It was filled with static for a few moments, before the face of a woman suddenly popped into view.

Hackett almost assumed that it was a Liminal. She had the facial traits of a female, but her skin was blue, leaning towards purple. There wasn't any hair on her scalp, which seemed to end in short, tapered tentacles. She seemed so _human_ …it wasn't any of the original aliens, and neither was it Covenant. The Officers had to be right; no Covenant ship had ever attempted to communicate with them after the disastrous fight above Harvest.

She spoke to them in what a human would consider a soothing, gentle voice. She sounded female, but Hackett couldn't understand a damn thing.

"Any way to translate what it´s saying?" Asked Hackett.

"Alas. We have yet to translate the Covenant dialect. The small scraps of data we have acquired is…subpar at best."

This was problematic. As the highest-ranking Officer of this Battlegroup, deciding what to do about this scenario was up him. If it was a trap, springing it would be on him. He did not want to know how much havoc a single ship could wreak upon their fleet. However, if the ship maintained its distance…and it was actively transmitting its location to boot.

Was this an attempt at diplomacy? But why would they attack the UNSC like that?

"I don't want to risk more lives in what might be a ruse," said Hackett.

"But would not the benefits of accepting this open offer outweigh the risks? Allow me to ask you, sire, would you risk opening up a second front for the UNSC to save the handful of lives potentially lost? Or, proposed differently, would the potential loss of a small diplomatic shuttle not outweigh the potential gain of peace with a new race of aliens?"

"Would you?"

The AI smiled. "To guarantee victory, the needs of the many must take priority over the needs of the few."

Such was the curse of being a soldier…Hackett hated himself for it, but deep down, he already knew the answer. Would he risk a handful of men and women for a potentially peaceful outcome? Yes. God, yes he would. "Prep a Longsword with the First-Contact package and send a message to FLEETCOM; we'll need official diplomats."

"Message away, sire. Who should we send aboard the Longsword?"

Admiral Hackett thought it over for a brief moment. This was going to be a dangerous operation. The delegates might die in the ensuing contact. "A handful of soldiers, no more. Two Orbital Drop Shock Troopers accompanied by two M7 Liminals."

"Might I recommend the services of a Slime Girl? It might help with the language barrier."

Hackett nodded. "Good suggestion. Add the soldier who brokered the initial safe-zone and tell Lieutenant Antonio Silva that he has a new op." Good leaders were like gems, and this man Silva had performed sublimely in the field. "In the meantime, keep scanning. Frequency, language, anything. I want it all."

"Of course, sire."

"And get the message to the rest of the Battlegroup. If that ship so much as sneezes the wrong way, I want it dead."

The AI smirked. "I have ten MAC´s aimed at the enemy vessel already, sire."

Hackett nodded, appreciating her fast work. "Excellent. Get me in link with Colonel Fletcher. I want the soldiers aboard the _Hollander_ within one hour."

Of all the decisions he had made in his life, this one was easily the most important. If he failed here, humanity would find itself boxed in into a war on two fronts. But if he succeeded…they might just be able to fight the Covenant off.

~0~

* * *

 **Unknown System, 2157**

 **Onboard Asari Republics Diplomatic Shuttle** _ **Imploring Embrace**_

Matriarch Imana paced back and forth through the bridge as her multi-racial crew went about their duties. Every five seconds she would glance at her screen, scanning it intently so see if this alien species had made any attempt to contact them back again.

Thus far, no such luck.

The garden world was still being defended by the alien fleet, which held their positions a few thousand kilometers away from its gravity well. A Turian Captain had informed the Matriarch of the first skirmish and groundside investigation, as well as the subsequent and massive battle that had resulted in so many casualties for both sides.

She didn't want to admit it to her crew, but the thought of the Turian 25th fleet losing against a fleet a third their size was…frightening. Seventy ships had gone up against the alien fleet of twenty-five and now, the planet had a debris field multiple kilometers in size, leaking Eezo, littered with bodies.

Curses be upon the Turian General who had approved of this reckless maneuver, and curses be upon the aliens who had so aggressively opened fire without provocation.

"These designs are unlike anything we have seen before," said her Turian sensor operator. "Scans show no sign of Element Zero. Fleet Commander Tarankus was right; these ships don't use Eezo at all."

The Matriarch didn't suppose they did. These ships were unlike Citadel warships. They were bulky, but angular as well. Grey and boxy, but intimidating. They were all the size of a medium-tonnage Cruisier, except for their flagship. Its size rivalled that of the largest Turian Dreadnaughts, surpassed only by the one-of-her-kind _Destiny Ascension._

"We are holding position at the neutral point," said Telore. The navigational officer typed a few commands and then added, "The remains of the 25th fleet are holding positions as well. We are just outside their weapon range."

So the Turians wouldn't be able to come to their aid in case diplomacy ceased to be effective. Very well. They all knew the risks.

Several tense minutes crept by, during which Imana grew increasingly wary of the aliens' lack of communication.

Then, at last, her Salarian communications operator gave a cry of surprise. "We have a signal! They sent us a data package. Isolating now. Your orders?"

"Good. Send them our language codex, Kovak. If they are smart enough to find compatibility between our communication systems, they will be smart enough to at least understand our attempt to bypass the language barrier. What did they send us?"

"Analyzing…it appears to be a holographic simulation."

"Play it."

The Salarian officer did as she asked and soon, every single screen aboard the diplomatic shuttle was filled with the animated version of their ship, which was then confronted with another, smaller ship. It had the shape of a flat triangle, with pointed "wings" and a short, sharp "tail". It was about as large as the _Embrace_ however, which came as a relief to the Matriarch. This had to be a Corvette of theirs.

The crew watched the animation play, in which the alien vessel approached the _Embrace_ and then turned around, so that its rear side was facing their shuttle. Then, the vessel slowly moved backwards until it touched the shuttle, whereupon it bounced away again.

"The animation just repeats after this," said Kovak.

"What does this mean?" Asked the Turian. "Is this a crude replication of how their species mate?"

Imana scowled. "Of course not, Krictus. I believe…they are telling us they wish to dock with us." She watched the animation again, taking notice of the colors that they had employed within it. A flash of red appeared every time the ship bounced off the _Embrace._ "But they do not know how…can we tell them?"

"I believe we can," said Kovak. "If we manipulate the holographic displays…hmm…omni-tool…yes…"

She allowed the officer to mutter to himself as he rigged together a response, in the same universal image language as the aliens had employed. After a while, he exclaimed, "Ah, I got it."

A new animation appeared onscreen. In this, the _Embrace_ highlighted the docking port at their rear.

"Is this adequate?"

The Matriarch nodded. "Yes…this will suffice. Send them this animation, and immediately prepare an open room for our visitors." She then turned towards her Turian crewmember. "Send word to the soldiers. Have them stand at the ready, but keep them away from the negotiation table. We do _not_ want to provoke them."

The crew of the _Embrace_ collectively shuddered at the memory of the footage down at the surface of the planet. Before his untimely demise at the hands of the alien defenders, Fleet Commander Tarankus had shared the live footage of the Turian soldiers with the diplomatic shuttle.

They had never known such attractive aliens could be so fierce. It had to be the definition of mixed signals.

It made her reluctant to meld with these creatures. Asari had the unique ability to combine their consciousness with other species. It was how how the races of the galaxy were able to communicate so quickly upon first contact. What would have taken months – years even - of language barriers to work through only took days when the council met new civilizations.

After Kovak sent the message to the alien Commander, there was nothing else to do. And so the crew of the _Embrace_ had no choice but to resume the waiting, watching time trickle by as the aliens processed their attempts at communication.

It still took the aliens half an hour before they sent their reply though. It was the same animation as before, only this time, the alien vessel remained linked with the _Embrace._ From within its transparent frame, biped aliens entered the image of the diplomatic shuttle.

Imana smiled; she had predicted their intentions correctly. The alien vessel that had appeared in the hologram was now rapidly closing in on them, followed by two more of its kind. They were taking precautions then. That was to be expected. After all, it did not happen often that a First Contact scenario ended in violence. This was perhaps the first time these aliens had ever encountered other species and as such, it was of the utmost importance that this meeting transpired peacefully.

She did not want this young species to think badly of other lifeforms so soon after their contact.

Soon, one of the three vessels broke off from their formation and headed towards the _Embrace's_ docking bay.

The troops took up positions around the doors to the negotiation room, taking cover behind makeshift barricades. It wasn't a killzone, but the Biotic potential of the Commandoes would be sufficient to deter any hostile alien soldiers.

She disapproved of the need for protection through violence, but there was no other way. The lives of her crew mattered to her.

"Come now," she told her crewmembers. Kovak, Krictus and Telore all turned and looked at her, surprise clearly visible on their faces. "We have guests to meet."

"Oh Spirits…" muttered Krictus. "Are we sure about this? I mean, these things fought Turian soldiers down there. They will not take kindly to seeing me."

"Nonsense," Said the Matriarch. "They are here for diplomacy, I am certain of it. After all, they could have killed us with their Corvettes had they wanted to. No, I am certain that the more different faces, the better. As soon as they realize they are dealing with a collective of sentient species, they will understand the scale of our galactic community."

~0~

* * *

Captain Solitus understood that he had been in less precarious positions during his life as a soldier. He had faced down Krogan, sure. He had killed his fellow Turians during a civil uprising, most regrettably. However, as he looked around the interior of the Corvette-sized alien ship he now found himself in, he wondered if he hadn't made a wrong decision somewhere in his life.

After all, how had he ended up in the middle of a group of heavily-armed alien creatures with his wrists bound together by metal chains, being leered at by several attractive female aliens like he had bathed in the blood of their newborn children? It must have been a few years ago, when he had accepted the promotion to the rank of Captain. Maybe, if he had just refused, he would still be at the front lines now, fighting off less-intimidating looking creatures like Vorcha.

" _Coming up on the alien vessel now,"_ one of the two pilots of the Corvette spoke. The vessel was not nearly as roomy as Solitus had hoped. Perhaps at one point during its development it could have been quite spacious, but when filled with five Asari-shaped aliens and two that looked like they had grown up on Tuchanka, there wasn't much room for anyone else.

Except for that blue, viscous-looking being. The strangest alien that Solitus had ever seen in his life, and that included the Hanar.

Oh, if only he knew what these creatures were saying! They had to be sharing vital intelligence with each other, or discussing their next maneuvers. A wealth of information and he failed to understand a single word of it!

At one point, Captain Solitus had been taken away from the neutral zone towards this odd vessel, whereupon several well-equipped and dangerous-looking aliens had followed him inside. Then, the vessel had taken off, taking him to an unknown location. Was he finally being taken prisoner? Taken to the alien's leader, so that he might discuss the details of the Turian surrender?

He did not know. The only thing he did know, was that this ship was finally docking with a different one.

Perhaps the aliens had taken a liking to him due to his actions, because they failed to treat him with the violence and brutality their built suggested they were capable of. Indeed, they had been quite amiable to him.

" _Are you sure I can't eat him?"_ Asked one of the more monstrous females. Her legs ended in long, curved claws, clad in black armor. Her suit was specially accommodated for her limbs, which Solitus knew weren't true limbs, but more wing-like. A flying sub-species.

" _Pretty sure,"_ replied a different female. This one had a long, thick tail protruding from her lower body, which was protected against by a flexible-looking hardsuit that covered it. At least, Solitus assumed it was flexible, as the alien constantly moved her tail back and forth, accidentally knocking other aliens to the steel floor whenever they were unlucky enough to be situated behind her.

" _Just one bite?"_

" _Boss thinks they're not Covenant. They behaved themselves during the fight, so we should behave as well."_

" _D'awww…but I'm so hungry."_

" _I know, I know."_

Yes, that had to be it. He was the first one to attempt and create a neutral zone, so they had selected him from the other Turians to take with them.

" _Alright people,"_ said one of the aliens. Its voice was heavier than the female ones, which likely meant that "it" was a "he". " _This is it. Our very first ACTUAL First Contact. The first first time didn't count, as we couldn't even try to tell them what kind of socks we liked, before they started blowing us up. Keep your fingers on your triggers, but don't get itchy. We're here to prevent a war, not start it."_

The Asari-shaped aliens all roared in response, while the female ones merely glanced at each other. All of these aliens wore dark armor and nonreflective faceplates, making it look like he was dealing with Quarians. Large, heavily-armored Quarians of course, but the resemblance was there.

The leader-alien barked out more orders, after which the hatch in the back of the vessel opened.

 _This is it,_ Solitus thought as he straightened his spine. _Spirits…this is it. I will be the first Turian to face a new species in centuries!_

~0~

* * *

 **04:09 Hours, November 28** **th** **, 2526 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Aboard unidentified alien vessel.**

Frank "fluffy tamer" Smith grumbled under his breath as the hatch of the Longsword Interceptor opened, revealing the inside of the very first alien vessel mankind had ever set foot upon. Here he was, about to make history, and he was wearing shoddy bandages underneath his hastily-zipped up BDU. Arachne medics were very fast workers, but those damn Small Breeds couldn't even gear him up properly before the brass had decided that his ass was required for a proper peace-talk.

He knew that trying to sort things out without violence had been a mistake. He wished Tara were here to belittle him for him. Belittling himself wasn't quite the same.

They had been waiting in transit for five minutes now, trying to get this whole thing on the move.

"Lorane says the atmosphere is clean. Mostly nitrogen and oxygen," said Lieutenant Silva. The _Hollander's_ AI had established a full link with his suit and was using it to gather as much data as she could. "She still wants a full decontamination if you take your helmet off, but at least you won't die. The prisoner can move with us. Nice and easy, boys,"

One of the Liminals with them loudly coughed.

"And girls. This is going to be their first ever impression of humans and Liminals _not_ trying to kill them. Look professional, look competent, look alive."

"Sir?" Asked the Raptor Harpy. "Do we have any way of communicating with them?"

Silva nodded and then gestured at the last individual to exit the Longsword. The adorable little Slime Girl, unclothed and obviously uncomfortable in the steel confinement of the spaceship, slowly exited the interceptor.

"Come on out Marane," Said the Eltee. "The _Hollander's_ AI can't fully translate their words unless you can translate basic communications for us. She needs samples."

The three veteran Orbital Drop Shock Troopers that had been handpicked for this operation quickly made way for the unhappy Slime to take her first, tentative steps onto the alien vessel-

-only to immediately yelp with fear and jump back in the Longsword. The alien prisoner watched the spectacle unfold with clear confusion, but kept himself quiet. A smart man. Alien. Thing.

"Samples of their _language,"_ The Lieutenant quickly corrected himself. "I didn't think need I needed to say that…I promise they won't hurt you. Nothing bad will happen to you."

One of the ODST's muttered under his breath. "It's not like anything can actually _hurt_ her…"

His comrade prodded him in his ribs and the soldier fell quiet. When it came to Liminals, these battle-hardened, hard-ass killers had a definite soft spot.

Slowly, warily keeping an eye on her surroundings, the Slime exited the Longsword and immediately latched herself onto the alien prisoner, which cried out in surprise and fall against the steel bulkhead.

Two ODST's -Corporal Pierce and Sergeant Chuan-Chong- quickly rushed towards the poor Raven and then attempted to pry the girl off. The two large, muscled ODST's were only barely able to remove the little Slime from the prisoner and calm her down.

"Man," said the Dragonewt. "These things must be really tasty…"

"She's a blue Slime. She doesn't eat living things."

"But she can digest them!"

Corporal Smith sighed. As the residentiary expert on the more aggressive Liminals, it was his responsibility to keep them relatively in line. "Can we please stop talking about eating the prisoner? You two sound like a pair of Jackals." He glanced at the Raptor Harpy, who was undoubtedly glaring at him from underneath her angular helmet. "Figuratively speaking, of course."

A bad Harpy was worse than a Jackal any day of the week. Raptors even more so; they really lived up to the prehistoric monsters they had been named after. And Smith was pretty sure a Raptor could kick a Jackal's ass any day of the week.

The Lieutenant stepped up towards the double set of doors that separated the docked Longsword from this alien ship. "Lorane says she's ready to start comparing data with the language package these things sent us. Marane, you're up."

The slime tentatively slid up towards the Eltee´s legs and hid behind them. The rest of the squad clicked their safeties off, kept their fingers on the triggers and gave their temporary CO the signal.

Silva nodded and then slowly, deliberately, opened the doors. "The whole fleet is watching through your helmet cams, ladies and gentlemen. Time to make history."

~0~

* * *

The docking bay doors opened, and the very first being that entered the diplomatic shuttle was a battered-looking Turian soldier, who walked forward with his head raised, made visual contact with Matriarch Imana and then promptly let his head hang.

"Oh, Spirits damn it all!" He cursed. "You are an Asari! What are you doing here?"

The Matriarch gaped at the very Turian-looking Turian with a mixture of frustration and confusion. She exchanged a glance with Telore, who shrugged, and then looked back at the Turian. "Who are you? How -how did you get aboard that vessel?"

The Turian proudly raised his head. "I am Captain Solitus, and I am here on a mission for peace!"

The frustration quickly turned to more confusion until finally, said confusion made way for tension and apprehension when the alien group appeared. Seven of the eight creatures had the general biped shape of most Citadel Species, which would certainly make future cooperation and interaction easier. They were clad in what looked like dark hardsuits, with sealed helmets and visors that failed to betray even a single detail of their facial traits. Their weapons were like their warships, grey and boxy, completely different in aesthetics than the ones the Citadel species used.

The eighth however, was a complete enigma rivalled only by the Hanar. Its green and blue body was amorphous, though that only went for the lower section. Its - _her? -_ upper body looked remarkably like that of an Asari, downright to the mammary glands that were surely vestigial in nature. Several proboscises protruded from its head, ending in luminous bulbs and looking oddly like Hanar tentacles. Aquatic, perhaps?

It was such an odd sight that Imana nearly forgot the gravity of the situation. The Turian soldier had his wrists bound, marking him as a prisoner. They were very civil to return him to his allies, but why this soldier, and not the other dozens that were sure to have been taken captive?

It took the Matriarch a few moments to recollect herself. She noticed that two of the aliens were different from the rest; one had a long, thick tail and the other had oddly-positioned arms. Both these two beings had clawed boots instead of normal ones. Was their sexual dimorphism that broad?

"Hold your tongue," she hissed at the Turian. "This is a delicate situation, so stay quiet!"

There was a brief moment where nothing happened at all. A moment where both groups keenly observed the other in silence, analyzing what was transpiring in their own way. Then, somehow feeling that this silence would be detrimental to their attempts at peace, Imana stepped forwards.

After a short pause, one of the creatures did the same.

~0~

* * *

It was an unreal experience to Lieutenant Antonio Silva. Two years of his life he had spent leading his men and women against the Covenant invaders. Two years of watching the Marines under his command die, of hearing of the millions of casualties that were inflected with each lost battle. Two years of panicking, despairing civilians and burned graveyards.

And now, he was about to shake hands with one of them. An alien, in the flesh, standing right in front of him. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to strike; to lash out and kill this monster before it could hurt his soldiers. But this situation required diplomacy, trust, and a Slime girl.

It helped that these things were so _human_ in appearance. They really were. Their body shape, their limbs, their physiology, even their damn _faces_. Was this some sort of trick? An attempt to get him to lower his guard, maybe?

If so, someone had messed something up. These aliens -he mentally forbade himself to call them blue-skinned alien babes- had tentacles on their head instead of hair.

It took the Lieutenant a few moments to figure out that there were other alien species present, too. Seeing that he was dealing with a _group_ of different species triggered him badly and on instinct, he reached for his sidearm. The sudden movement prompted every single other individual in the room to do the same and before he knew it, the room was filled with a stupid amount of gun.

"Hold your fire!" Silva barked at his squad. He forced his arms to return to his sides and cursed himself for his lack of control. "Hold your fire. It's not the Covenant." Memories of the burned corpses of his very first squad flashed before his mind's eye and he quietly repeated himself. "Not Covenant…"

One of the new species was a lizard-looking one, with two horn-like protrusions extending from the top of its head. There were also two of the avian-like species that had attacked Shanxi, which was probably a good thing for their prisoner. A shame they couldn't return the good Samaritan to his flock yet.

"Greetings," the Lieutenant forced himself to say. His heart was pounding and he could feel beads of sweat run down his forehead. Which moron had instructed a military man to sit down and drink tea with aliens again? "My name is Lieutenant Antonio Silva." All good so far. "We ehm…we peace in come."

He mentally slapped himself.

At least Marana hadn´t molested her way through this scenario yet.

~0~

* * *

Matriarch Imana suppressed the Biotic ripple that the alien's sudden movement had caused and remained calm as it proceeded to yell something at his group, perhaps urging them to stay calm too. Such a levelheaded figure. A calm leader of his kind, it appeared.

The being spoke to her. Such a shame that the first, wise words of this new race would be lost forever. What wisdom was hidden in his statement, that would go untranslated and ununderstood?

Imana placed both of her hands on her sternum and bowed for the alien leader. A gesture of good faith and trust, which she hoped the being could return.

The being rubbed the back of his neck and then slowly repeated the gesture, much to Imana's joy. Captain Solitus quiet, thank the Goddess. This was a pivotal moment that could not be ruined by the pride of a stubborn soldier.

Still, Matriarch Imana wished that she could see this being's face without its helmet. But she supposed that they might not be able to handle this atmosphere.

Then, the alien leader spoke again. _"Hu-man,_ " it slowly said, gesturing at himself. He then gestured at the team behind him. " _Hu-man."_

About the two stranger aliens, he said, " _Li-mi-nal."_

Very odd.

The alien repeated his gesture. " _Hu-man. Hu-mans. Li-mi-nal."_

"I believe," said Krictus, "That he is speaking the name of their species."

Imana nodded, understanding what the Turian meant. She mimicked the creature's gesture, first towards herself. "Asari." Then she pointed at Telore. "Asari." Krictus and the Solitus were next. "Turian." Finally, it was Kovak's turn. "Salarian."

She paused for several seconds, allowing the alien to take in her words. Then, she too repeated herself. "Asari. Turian. Salarian."

The first "human" then took a step closer and slowly extended his hand towards her. The Matriarch glanced down at the limb, confused. What was she meant to do? Insulting the creature was the last thing she wanted.

It occurred to her that, with sentient beings, mimicry was a sign of attempted communications. With that in mind, she too extended her hand towards the man.

Goddess, their limbs looked so much like each other! They even had five fingers attached to each hand! How, how could they have possibly developed these traits by themselves? Had the Protheans uplifted them?

Then, the alien reached out and gently took her hand in his. The Matriarch blushed a little, not understanding why the alien would touch her like that. His gauntlet felt cold and hard, but his grip was not painful. It was solid, yes, but also careful.

The "human" slowly moved his hand up and down, taking hers with it. "Silva," he said. He released her hand and then gestured at his chest. "Silva."

Imana glanced at the creature, confused. Had she gotten their racial name wrong? "Hu-man?" She repeated, hoping that the alien understood her confusion.

"Human. Silva." Then he aimed at the other creatures. "Human. Smith. Human. Pierce. Human. Chuan-Chong. Liminal…"

As the being continued naming his team, the Matriarch began to understand. He was calling out their names! Human was their species, Liminal was the species of these odd females, and "Sil-va" was his name!

"Asari," she then spoke, gesturing at her own chest. "Imana."

"I…mana …" the alien tried her name a few times, until he finally got it right. "Imana?"

She nodded. "Imana."

It was an odd greeting, but she could understand the meaning behind it.

"Matriarch Imana," said Telore. "When do you suppose the time for the meld is?"

Imana nodded. "Soon, I believe. I doubt these are the actual diplomats. The true negotiations will have to take place on the Citadel."

It was then that the blueish little creature broke the sense of unease and hesitation that lingered in the atmosphere and suddenly surged forwards, despite cries and gestures of protests of her fellow creatures.

Though her heart was racing, she did not back down, neither did she flinch. For the sake of peace, she would endure their odd customs without a doubt.

Even when it started fondling her.

The creature enveloped Imina's body, pressing her voluptuous mammary glands against her chest in a blatant violation of common courtesy.

Not that the Matriatch could _complain_ about it.

"Don't shoot!" she heard Solitus then shout. "It won't harm you!"

Imina looked up from the brash alien and saw that her soldiers had their weapons trained on the amorphous alien, that the "humans" and "Liminals" had _their_ weapons trained on the crew of the now aptly-named _Imploring Embrace_ and that Captain Solitus was trying to get everybody to lower their guns.

These aliens truly were unnecessarily aggressive. Why?

"Peace, be still," the Matriarch told her team. "As the Captain says, this one means us no harm."

The blue creature apparently decided that the intimate negotiations would not be effective, and finally released Imina. However, it then decided to target Telore, who was even less prepared for it than Imina had been.

The Matriarch knew that one of the most important aspects of a successful First Contact was trust. She allowed the odd blue creature to do as she pleased, trusting that it was a pivotal aspect of their attempt at communicating.

After discussing among themselves, the humans seemed to relax from their rigid, attentive stance, and Imina understood that the odd being had served as a manner of testing, to see if their intentions were pure.

She had trusted them before, and now she hoped that they could bring themselves to trust her now. She stepped up towards the human leader, silently praying to the Goddess that this would end well.

The Matriarch stepped up towards the human and slowly, deliberately, brought her hands up to take his. These creatures looked so much like the Asari, but in their nature, they were so utterly different.

"Silva," she spoke. Then, she placed her hands on the alien's helmet, understanding that their overlapping physiology could mean an overlapping internal biology as well. Most sentient creatures breathed oxygen. The Turians did, the Salarians did. It was a part of life. These creatures would be no different.

She moved her hands up, but the alien moved with sharp decisiveness and stopped her by grasping her wrists in an iron grip.

Imina did not pull away, but neither did she attempt to assert her will. The alien slowly released her and then brought his hands to his helmet himself, removing it even as his allies readied themselves for the sign of hostility that would never come.

The Matriarch uttered a small gasp that went unheard as the alien remove his helmet. The complexion of his skin was a pale white, but the top of his head was covered in short, dark fur. His face was strikingly similar to that of an Asari, to the point that this being could have _been_ an Asari had it not been for the lack of a crest and the presence of the odd fur.

The alien wasn't all that bad to look at, strangely enough.

Still, it was impossible to mistake the human's expression for anything but suspicion and vague anger. It seemed to resent her, for some reason.

She slowly reached for his cheeks and then rested her forehead against his, both actions which he took in stride. Good. He would need that determination and patience for what was to come.

"Embrace Eternity," she whispered.

The rush of a successful Meld flowed through her veins, through her _mind,_ and in that instance, she _saw_ the reason behind their aggression. The source of their paranoia. But it was difficult to keep a grasp of, and soon, the thoughts slipped away.

Through linked nervous systems and synced minds, their bodies had become one. But there was something within the alien's head that prevented Imina from exploring his mind. It was like a beacon within his consciousness, attracting her focus but at the same time repulsing her efforts to understand it. It was not organic in nature.

What she did find though, deeply shocked her. This creature's mind was so incredibly like that of an Asari, more so than any sentient being she had melded with before, but at the same time radically different. She could not dwell on their differences though. Despite her immense curiosity, she focused solely on their language.

Goddess, how the alien resisted her. Every one of his thoughts pushed back against her and though she found traces of memories, images and places, she found naught but the creature's sudden alarm and flaring anger at her incursion. A reasonable fury.

 _Get out,_ he ordered her. His thoughts were her thoughts, and through their link, she understood.

 _I shall not harm you. I seek only to learn._

His resistance, combined with the odd presence of the pulsating beacon at the back of his mind, became stronger yet. _How are you doing this? You won't find Earth._

The memories became stronger. She saw a world, beautiful and blue, hidden away behind a yellow star. His homeworld.

What would she want with it?

 _You shall not have us!_

Then, she saw the symbol. A bird with raised wings, mighty and proud. Through their link, she felt his own pride and happiness in relation to the image. His military, his family. His home. This being was a soldier, with a duty that went beyond that of any combatant.

 _I do not want to have you, I wish to learn of you. You control what I see, and I only wish to see your language._

 _My…language…_

The resistance became less, and the image of the predatory bird faded away. A series of new images rapidly followed, one after another. A book, paperwork, a holographic screen followed by a round ball being kicked by more aliens. Then, a crashing ship watched from a hill, bleeding men on the ground and a massive, purple starship, descending on the surface of a world that she now knew was doomed.

 _I can't trust you. Aliens are our enemies._

The fear and awe that the Matriarch felt at that last image was partially her own. She did not linger nad instead hurried to assure the being of her good intentions. _Let us change that, let us be friends. Let me show you what we can offer._

The pride of the Council, the Citadel station, beautiful and unblemished, became the focus of her own concentration. She showed him the various species that governed their lives, all living side by side, in relative harmony.

She showed him her children, her own homeworld, Thessia. Slowly, she felt the being understand that she wished no harm upon them.

His anger and proud determination made way for a sudden melancholy, a sorrow that could only be matched by those who had experienced immense loss.

 _They're hunting us down,_ he told her. She saw what had once been a world, populated by millions, now reduced to a floating ball of smoldering glass. Devoid of life, devoid of hope. _We do not want war with you._

Bolstered by his sudden trust, she pressed the issue. _Let us aid you. Think about your language, your words. Show me them, and only them._

As Silva's focus intensified, Imina started seeing what she needed. Words without meaning suddenly rang familiar, as if she had known them her entire life. It was slow at first, but soon intensified until the alien language nearly overwhelmed her. She felt strained, yet honored beyond measure. The phrases and sentences that followed were empty, without context, but she could speak them now.

In return, she showed him her own language. The most oft-spoken dialect of her species, Aiamea. It was difficult to him for certain, but he managed with time. He was wise, and had patience.

 _How do you fare?_ She asked with a thought.

 _Man…this is some weird shit. I think I got it though. What´s an azure?_

Imina quickly banished the word. _Nothing. I will end the meld. Are you prepared_ _?_

 _Guess so. Do it._

The bond between their minds slowly unraveled. Their nervous systems decynced and soon, they became separate again.

They opened their eyes. Imina glanced around, feeling something wet and slimy attached to her scalp.

It wast that odd blue creature, which was now sitting right next to them. Two tentacles protrude from its blue head, having attached themselves to both Imina as Silva.

"Guess so, do it!" The alien happily exclaimed with a feminine voice. Both groups were staring at the oblivious little being with clear confusion. But Imina could understand her, too. What she didn't understand, was how it was possible that the creature had just repeated something that Silva had said within his mind.

"Hey Eltee," yelled one of the armored humans. "Are you alright, sir?"

Silva nodded. "It's alright, stand down. She didn't hurt us."

"Yeah, Marane told us as much."

"She got lucky," muttered one of the female aliens. "If Marane hadn't done her thing, we would have opened up on these things."

"Sir, with respect, what the hell just happened? You were surrounded with this blue mist-"

"A Biotic field," replied Silva. "It's…complicated. Perhaps someone else should explain-"

"I shall take it upon myself," Said Imina. It was such an odd sensation to have to speak the alien syllables and words, to pronounce sentences that she had never spoken before. "To further…instruct you...on the melding. We welcome you to our ship."

~0~

* * *

Corporal Smith had once been told that his ancestors had been very important in keeping the peace between Liminals and humans. That, way back in the 21st century, the Smith family had dedicated themselves to the cultural exchange projects over the world, all the way from Japan to the United States of America. It was why his sister had dropped out of basic training to further help cement the still-troubled relationships between the humans and the Liminals.

Hopefully the Smith genes were still strong with him, because he was about to employ them on a scale that was even larger than the Interspecies Exchange Bill.

"I'm not the only one who heard the alien speak our language, right?" He asked.

Serlissa, the Dragonewt, shrugged. "Guess so. I've had my fill of crazy for today."

The Eltee started explaining. "It's how these aliens, the Asari they're called, reproduce. It's also how they learn the language of new alien species whenever encountered."

"Whenever?" Asked the Sergeant. "This happens often?"

"The Asari…well, guess they can explain it the best."

The "Asari" woman nodded. "Indeed," she spoke. "You must follow us to the table. The peace table."

The peace table? Her grasp on English was very feeble.

But as this situation had already reached the highest point of craziness, and the Corporal was content with following orders. And seeing as the Lieutenant soon told the team to enter this room that the aliens were trying to direct them to, he simply obeyed. It was a good thing that the little Slime had been vocalizing their thoughts, otherwise the freaking blue that had appeared would have resulted in a bloodbath.

Still, Smith did not enter the room without keeping a solid trigger finger on his MA5 rifle.

The UNSC squad sat down around the table, though Serlissa and her partner remained standing.

"I still say we shoot the lot," said one of the Helljumpers. "Fuckers killed thousands of civvies."

"Don't be a fool CC," said the other one. "There can be no quicker way to lose a war, than to lose on two fronts. We need all our resources to stop the Covenant."

The soldier in Corporal Smith agreed. The man within him though…bombing civilians was not done. End of story. These bastards had inflected so many needless casualties, destroyed so much infrastructure that Shanxi would need weeks to get back in operational shape. And the thousands of grieving widows and crying children who would never see their family again deserved justice.

But was that the same as retribution? He didn't know.

It was times like these that made him feel glad to be a Corporal, and nothing ranked higher.

The lot of them sat around the table, glaring at each other with suspicion and hostility from the UNSC's side, and what looked like open curiosity from the aliens'. Smith had no idea how this meeting was supposed to go anywhere; but at least the Lieutenant was apparently good enough to read minds.

"So," Silva said as soon as he sat down. "Let's start over. My name is Lieutenant Antonio Silva, of the United Nations Space Command. This is Corporal Pierce and Sergeant Chuan-Chong, Corporal Smith and Specialist Serlissa, Corporal Volterra and Specialist Marane. On behalf of Admiral Hackett and Colonel Fletcher, we extend to you an offer of peace."

The Asari inclined her head in appreciation. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I am Matriarch Imina T'Sohka of the Asari Republics. This is my team. Telore Leos of the Asari Republics, Krictus Proraka of the Turian Hierarchy and Kovak Veriso of the Salarian Union. You already know Captain Solitus. Despite the circumstances that brought us together, it is the hope of the Citadel Council that our species can coexist and cooperate in peace."

Huh…her English was getting better by the minute. Still, Smith eyed the collection of aliens with suspicion. He was just waiting for one of them to start yelping nonsense about some religion and then the entire mess would start all over again.

The Lieutenant sighed. "On the behalf of the UNSC, I share that sentiment. However, our very first contact nearly resulted in a full war. These…Turians…violated our borders, approached our fleet with charging weapons at ramming speed and then invaded Shanxi, our Colony." Despite his face betraying no emotions, his voice grew louder and louder with each accusation, until he was nearly shouting. "They bombed civilian targets, destroyed entire cities and annihilated half our fleet! We lost thousands of lives. What. For."

The Asari woman, Matriarch Imina, nodded solemnly. "For whatever it is worth, you have my deepest sympathies. Fleet Commander Tarankus was acting way beyond his mandate, and General Levitcus was in clear violation of Citadel laws when he ordered the invasion." She paused, glancing at this "Captain Solitus". "However, your fleet opened fire first. While this in no way lessens the sorrow of the mutual casualties, it should be noticed that Fleet Commander Tarankus did not open fire until your fleet did."

All eyes were on the Lieutenant as he slowly placed both of his hands on the table and lowered his head. "An alien fleet drops by out of nowhere and aggressively approaches our colony, weapons charging all the while, at an obvious intercept course. Each and every single time this has happened, it resulted in the destruction of our planet and the total loss of the entire population."

Now it was the aliens´ turn to be silent. The majority of their group had probably not understood the Lieutenant´s apt description of their average day with the Covenant, but the Asari woman had, and her blue face quickly lost most of its color as the ramifications set in. `I…I see," she shakily said. "How many times did this happen?"

"In the past twenty months, we lost more than seven colonies," replied the Eltee.

The Asari appeared shocked, but she quickly recovered herself. "It was not the Turians," she said. "They never encountered your race before."

"Yup," Serlissa cut in, before the Lieutenant could give a more diplomatically-correct answer. "We are at war with the Covenant, a collection of different alien races, just like you. We made first contact with them about two years ago, when an alien vessel dropped by one of our colonies, just like you. When we lost contact and investigated it, the colony had been burned to a cinder and the alien vessel attacked us. Just like you."

"Enough," the Lieutenant sharply called. "Specialist, you want to open your maw, you ask permission!"

The Dragonewt tensed up. "Yes sir."

"But she's right though. When the Turian fleet dropped by, we thought our world was lost."

"You are at war?" The Asari carefully asked. "With a foe who destroyed your worlds? Such actions are a blatant disregard of the Citadel Council's laws!"

"Sir," asked the Raptor Harpy. "Permission to speak?"

"Granted."

"I don't think the Covenant gives a shit."

"If you could move to… _apprehend_ the Covenant for their breaking of Citadel rules, that would be really appreciated," the Lieutenant then told the Asari. "But they only ever bothered to contact us to tell us that our destruction was the will of their gods, and then promptly declared us war. They have been fighting with us ever since."

Now, the alien was clearly uncomfortable. She quickly relayed the situation to the rest of her team, who grew uneasy as well.

"We do not with any war," replied the Asari, "Neither with you nor this Covenant. I shall address this with the Council later, but I can clearly verify that the Turians do _not_ wish to destroy any planets. Fleet Commander Tarankus was merely attempting to…to punish you for activating a Mass Relay and-"

"I'm sorry," said Lieutenant Silva. "A what now?"

"A Mass -oh, I do apologize. The massive structure, at the border of this system? The blue one?"

"The Artefact? Yes. That's a Mass…what?"

"A Mass Relay. It was built by an ancient alien race, called the Protheans, who used them to travel through the galaxy at FTL speeds. They propel a ship using Mass Effect technology, allowing for instant travel between two Relays."

And then the UNSC group fell silent again. To Smith, it was like a really slow game of tennis, one that took his feelings and winged with them. Ancient aliens? Instant FTL? Mass Effect technology? What was all of this about?

"And we were doing something wrong with it? I can assure you that we have no clue what the spooks are doing to the damn thing. Still, the Turians invaded Shanxi because of a _rule_ we didn't even know _existed_?"

Lieutenant Silva was sounding pissed off again and Serlissa and Volterra were making bets which one of the aliens would get shot first. Smith was not amused.

The Turian ship Captain turned towards the Asari and started explaining something. The woman then translated for him. "Yes…Captain Solitus agrees with you that it was madness. He attempted to stop the attack, but to no avail. It was why he came planetside, to try and broker peace."

"Then he must have landed in the bombed-out remains of our cities, because _his_ kind started bombing them from orbit! Matriarch, we lost _thousands_ of people in this attack!"

"I know, I know," the Asari quickly replied, sounding like she was doing her best to calm the LT down. "As I said, Fleet Commander Tarankus was out of line. You will be pleased to learn that he perished during the attack. The Citadel Council recognizes the injustice brought down upon you and is willing to offer recompense."

"The brass will be pleased to hear that. When our official diplomats arrive, proper terms of negotiation can be discussed. Still, our people are technically at a state of war. We will have to ask the Turian fleet -what remains of it- to remove itself from our system."

"Of course, we understand. Once this meeting has finished, we will provide the fleet with the necessary orders." The Asari stood, as did Silva. "Lieutenant Silva, I am looking forward to lasting peace between our people."

"Agreed. The last thing we want right now is war. We will be returning to our people until an official meeting can be arranged."

Smith snapped to attention, as did the rest of the squad. After the Eltee bowed to the alien lady, he signaled the squad to move out.

As the soldiers took their positions and Lieutenant Silva was properly flanked by large and tough Helljumpers, the team left the alien vessel.

"Man," said Serlissa. "That could have gone better."

~0~

* * *

" **Human Cluster"**

 **Onboard Asari Republics Diplomatic Shuttle** _ **Imploring Embrace**_

 _ **2158**_

"Goddess," muttered Matriarch Imina, "That could have gone worse."

She watched the vids of the fateful First Contact that had taken place between the unofficial representatives of the Citadel Council and the UNSC. The footage didn't lie; the paranoia and the aggression that these humans exhibited upon their first interactions were...mildly disturbing. To think that they had managed to avert a bloodbath…it didn't at all make the Matriarch feel better about this.

It had been a stressing and exhausting two weeks since Imina had initiated the meld with Lieutenant Silva. Between reporting back to the Council and working on a new translation package for the human language, she had barely known any time to sleep.

The colony, Shanxi, was a hive of activity as human vessels appeared and disappeared over the course of two weeks, seemingly out of nowhere. The thought that this race had managed to colonize a world without the use of Element Zero was both exciting as disturbing.

And their war between the Covenant…Matriarch Imina was far from inexperienced in the field. As a Matriarch, she wielded vast Biotic powers and the wisdom to adapt to any situation.

 _We are at war with the Covenant, a collection of different alien races, just like you._

A collection of alien races that the Council knew nothing about having declared war on the humans was a handicap for their future coexistence that seemed insurmountable.

 _The colony had been burned to a cinder and the alien vessel attacked us. Just like you._

An entire colony had been lost to the aggression of this Covenant already, if the creature had been honest. The Council had been shocked. They had definitely not known of the existence of any coalition of alien species beyond Council space.

Councilor Sparatus had been clear; humanity needed to stand by the Citadel, not against it. And he was willing to do whatever it took to prevent this uneasy truce from deteriorating.

An oddly out-of-character moment for the Turian Councilor. Still, Imina had been promoted to be the official representative of the Asari Republics.

A knock on her quarters shook her out of her musings, and she quickly invited the visitor in.

"The other representatives have arrived, Matriarch," said Telore, now her officially-appointed assistant. "Primarch Salazar and Dalatrass Laerta are waiting to start our journey towards the human flagship. Their guards stand by as well."

Ah, good. Primarch Salazar was known to be a level-headed thinker. The opposite of what Tarankus had been, in fact. His presence would soothe the aliens' worries. Though Laerta might be willing to stir the negotiations up for Salarian gain…that might be problematic.

"Thank you," said Imina. "I shall meet them in the diplomacy room."

The Primarch had a Turian Spectre and a Blackwatch veteran with him, while the Dalatrass had just straight up taken two Spectres off-duty to assist her. It made Imina's two Commandoes seem rather mild by comparison.

"Where are we heading to?" Asked Salazar.

"The humans' flagship," replied the Matriarch. "Once there, will begin the negotiations in earnest."

Nobody objected to holding this important meeting on the largest warship of the human fleet, and soon, they were on their way.

The human flagship was a sight to behold. While not nearly as magnificent as the _Destiny Ascension,_ the flagship in charge of defending the Citadel, this vessel was still an impressive feat of engineering. It was more than a thousand Citadel-measured meters long, and looked very sturdy for a vessel supposedly struck multiple times with mass accelerator rounds, despite having no shields to protect it. The somewhat tubular-shaped warship was the size of a Turian dreadnaught, but lacked its extreme range. To make up for it, it had supposedly been capable of launching many hundreds of explosive missiles that tracked ships with frightening accuracy.

And now they were going to broker peace aboard this warship.

It took their shuttle mere minutes to traverse the distance between the _Embrace_ and this ship, and once the legislatures of the Council passed through the large airlock and officially into the ship, they were greeted by a human who carried himself with such authority and calmness that Imina immediately recognized him as the fleet commander of this battlegroup.

The human was a male, and an attractive one at that. His uniform consisted of a white jacket, white pants and a white headdress adorned with the image of a silver shield over two crossed symbols. Surmounting this graceful image was the same predatory avian as witnessed before, the image and theme of the UNSC.

He was not alone though. Two soldiers stood by his side, one clearly a human with a darker complexion. But the other one…Imina would be hard-pressed to call him a human. His upper body was, without a doubt, human, be it a heavily-muscled one with rougher, wilder features. His lower body however was a complete mystery to the Matriarch. It was about as large as an Elcor and ended in four thick, heavily armored legs that ended in feet without toes. The creature was as tall as he was long and looked like he could wrestle down Krogan battlemasters with ease. His unkempt facial hair did not lessen his intimidating physique. Still, he did not look brutish, and Imina doubted he would have made a suitable candidate for protecting his leader had he been one.

"Welcome," said the human, "aboard my ship. I am Rear Admiral Steven Hackett."

Imina bowed to the man. "Greetings. I am Matriarch Imina, representative for the Asari Republics."

If she surprised the man by speaking his language, he did not show it.

Salazar bowed as well, albeit not as deep as Imina had. "Greetings to you too. I am Primarch Salazar, the representative for the Turian Hierarchy."

The human's natural frown became a little more noticeable.

"And I am Dalatrass Laertar, representative for the Salarian Union. Together, our three races form the official government of Citadel space."

They all introduced their guards, and the Matriarch took special notice of the difference in names between the human soldier and the non-human one.

"Representatives, you are my guests for as long as you remain on the _Hollander._ I hope we can achieve a peaceful outcome. We have prepared a suitable meeting room for these deliberations. If you would follow me, please."

The Matriarch saw no reason not to follow the Admiral, and after exchanging a quick look with her fellows, proceeded to do so.

This Hackett took them to a large, richly-decorated room within the heart of the warship. Compared to the endless grey hallways and corridors, as well as inquisitive humans staring at them as they passed by, it was a welcome change.

The Matriarch was unprepared for the other human diplomat waiting for them. Or rather, the inhuman diplomat. She looked like an adult human female, but possessed such raw beauty that Imina momentarily forgot that she was in the middle of an interspecies negotiation to prevent the loss of potentially billions of lives.

The creature that stood before her possessed strange, curved horns atop her graceful head, a long, thin tail with a spade-like point at its end and even black wings with horned protrusions at its upper tips. Whereas the eyes of normal humans and Asari were white, this woman seemed to have black ones, like an Asari prepared for a meld. Her eloquent dress seemed out of place for a place like this…

A place like this. Negotiations. Preventing war.

The Matriarch cleared her throat and averted her eyes, hoping she had not insulted this beautiful creature by staring at her. "I -I do not believe we have met. I am Matriarch Imina."

"I welcome you, Matriarch Imina," the creature replied with an odd, musical voice. "My name is Akuma Ser'aphim. I am here on behalf of all Liminal species."

Liminal species…she had heard that word before. Liminal. What did it mean? Had the UNSC made contact with aliens who _did_ engage in peaceful terms with them? If so, had they lied about their bad experiences with the Covenant? But she had seen multiple alien creatures with different sizes and shapes. Were these perhaps subspecies?

Primarch Salazar and Dalatrass Laertar entered the negotiation room as well and they too appeared mystified by this creature.

She smiled in a warm, if somewhat condescending manner, and proceeded to introduce herself to them as well.

The Dalatrass seemed to recover quickly. While the Primarch introduced himself for the third time, she asked, "Liminal species? Forgive my prudence, but is your species allied with humanity? When did your first contact take place?"

The being's smile grew wider. As Admiral Hackett quietly entered the room, she explained. "Hmmm…there is no easy answer to this question. Our homeworld did not evolve one, but several dozen sentient races, all thriving and surviving. Because of the differences in our biology and psychology, war would be impossible to avert if we ever were to fully confront each other."

That revelation shook Imina to her core, and she had to employ her multiple centuries of experience to bite back a gasp. _Multiple dozens of species?_

"It is surprising indeed," Said Akuma. She had somehow sensed Imina's surprise? Her senses mist be truly impressive. "But our many governments performed their tasks sublimely, and managed to keep the existence of the various non-human species, or Liminal species, hidden. It was not until five centuries ago that our existence was fully revealed to the modernized world…but where are my manners? Please, assume your seat, let us move on to the truly important subjects!"

The Dalatrass had to "subtly" shake the Primarch out of his stupor, as he had been listening for a good ten seconds after the Liminal representative had finished.

Still, Matriarch Imina could not believe what she had heard! Several dozen sentient beings, evolving on the same planet? What were the chances? Were these species client races, or true allies? Did they have their own fleets, their own armies? How could their foe, the dreaded Covenant, still lay waste to their forces?

Shaking those uncertain thoughts out of her head, the Matriarch sat down in her chair, and the negotiations began.

~0~

* * *

 **18:54 Hours, January 13** **th** **, 2527 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Aboard UNSC** _ **Hollander**_

 **Negotiation room**

Turian Primarch Salazar, Salarian Dalatrass Laertar and Asari Matriarch Imina all sat down around the large, round table, while Admiral Hackett sat down on the last seat. The table had been specially designed for this meeting, possessing several seats arranged in such a way that the representatives would possess an equal position compared to each other.

However, Hackett still felt outnumbered by them. How could he not, when he was faced with three of the aliens' leaders as well as their soldiers, their elite guards? Still, he was not alone. Akuma Ser'aphim, the Liminal diplomat chosen to represent the UEG, had arrived a few days ago, and the Elder Devil had gracefully promised to aid him in the sections of diplomacy where he was unable to fully work on his own. He was glad to have a Devil-species at his side; they were alluring diplomats, and rare was the occasion where their requests were refused.

Every representative had two guards to ensure the protection of their respective leader, but they had to make due with two guards protecting them. While Hackett couldn't give a damn about the bodyguards that these Citadel races had, he was still worried that the combined effort of six elite forces would overwhelm the two rock-hard veterans standing by his side.

To his left, he had Staff Sergeant Augeron Akhal-Teke, a Heavy Breed Centaur so tough that he could tussle with two Elites at the same time and emerge victorious. His long, brown beard was perfectly groomed and reached to his armored chest, which was broader than any two of these alien representatives combined. Augeron had taken the task of defending an UNSC Admiral _very_ seriously and as a result, he had armed himself with an entire fireteam worth of equipment. Two sidearms, a shotgun and two assault rifles were strapped to his heavily-armored lower body. The ceremonial cloak of his Clan was draped across his spine however, giving him the more regal appearance of a knight above a soldier.

And to his right, he had the enigmatic Sergeant Avery Johnson. Dubbed the most "Hard-core son of a bitch" on Harvest, this man had been pivotal in fending off the Turian ground forces on Shanxi. He had waged a one-Sergeant war against entire groups of what would later be revealed as veteran Turian soldiers. Which was weird, because the area he had dropped in by means of an ODST drop pod had been bombed to smithereens a few hours later. How the man had survived a saturate bombing, much less lock down an entire city block on his own, was a complete miracle.

Today, Hackett was glad to have this Johnson by his side.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the Rear Admiral warmly spoke, spreading his arms to his alien visitors and his guards. Lorane had done a perfect job of extrapolating the information of Lieutenant Silva's Neural Interface. "Once again, welcome to the _UNSC Hollander_ , where the future of our races will be decided not with the sword, but with words."

For the past few weeks, the AI had been busy writing a software patch for the standard UNSC comm links. As information couldn't be directly lifted from Neural Interfaces, it had been a complicated procedure. It was a good thing that this Citadel Council already worked with universal translators. Running the Asari, Turian and Salarian languages across the most commonly-spoken human language in the UNSC was already difficult enough.

"We gracefully accept your welcome, Admiral," said the Turian Primarch. Hackett sure as hell didn't like the alien bastard standing in his ship, but he could appreciate his amiable manners. "And I would like to begin this meeting, if I may be so bold, by extending a formal apology on behalf of the Turian Hierarchy."

"The attack on Shanxi was deemed unjust and completely unnecessary," added the Asari Matriarch.

"Of course, we are willing to offer considerable reparations for the damage and casualties that the invasion and naval assault caused," finished the Salarian Dalatrass.

Hackett nodded to show his appreciation. "I would like to know what became of the General Levitcus," he then said. "Has he been brought to justice yet?"

A dark look crossed the Turian's face. "I am afraid not," he growled. "But rest assured, the ex-General will find no solace among my people. His cowardice in fleeing this system is the final nail in his coffin. We will find him, I assure you."

"That is good to hear." Hackett considered their offer for a few moments, recalling what the Office of Naval Intelligence had instructed him to ask for. "My superiors have expressed a priority interest in possible colonization sites within Council Space, where the Covenant won't be able to find them."

The Asari nodded. "Your war with this alien Covenant is troubling to the Council. I must stress that, without an official declaration of war from the Covenant to us, we will not and shall not interfere in your conflict."

 _You won't get one,_ Hackett grimly thought. However, he kept his thoughts to himself. If the Covenant wanted to pull a Pearl Harbor on this Citadel, they were free to do so. See how they liked a war with an alien Empire.

"I understand that. We merely wish the colonization sites where the Covenant won't attack them," replied the Rear Admiral.

"We understand your need for such rights, Admiral," said the Turian. The distinct flange in his voice was disconcerting, but it seemed that the Primarch was not set on being unreasonable. "And with restrictions, you will have those rights. You may not use the colonies as staging points for military assaults, or anchors for invasions."

"Rest assured, Primarch, our people only want to live," replied Hackett. "We won't militarize those worlds beyond normal planetary defense."

The Primarch nodded, apparently satisfied.

"Are those colonization rights your only requests?" Asked the Dalatrass. A little bit too eager, to Hackett's likes.

"No," he bluntly replied.

Akuma took over, perhaps sensing that his response had been too blunt for the tastes of their alien visitors. "Dalatrass, the Turians killed more than ten-thousand humans and Liminals during the conflict. The attack resulted in billions of credits worth of damage to our world. Colonization rights to unsettled worlds are not sufficient to account for the wasteful losses of sentient lives."

"Name your demands," said the Asari Matriarch. "Within reasonable boundaries, the Citadel Council is willing to offer whatever you need, with the exception of military support in your war. I must stand by my associate; we cannot afford to enter a war without a justifiable war goal."

"Regrettable, but understandable."

Hackett scraped his throat. "In addition, our superiors have expressed a strong interest in your people's technology. In light of the tragedy that unfolded on Shanxi, we request the full schematics and designs for the Citadel Council's ship weapon and FTL systems, including a supply of the element used to power your warships' engines. In addition, a reimbursement for the damages caused by the bombing of our cities will be required."

"I am afraid we must decline," said the Dalatrass. "While we are willing to offer considerable reparations financially, we cannot share all of our technology with a species that is not part of our Council. If you were to pursue ties with the Citadel Council and request embassies, our technology will become available in time, but…"

"That will not happen," Hackett interrupted the alien. "Based off our prior experience with alien collectives, my people will not be willing to pursue further relationships until they themselves have concluded that the Citadel Council's intentions are peaceful." He thought the offer through for a few seconds, before reluctantly saying, "However, we are willing to compensate."

From what he had heard, this Council's way of traveling faster than light wasn't necessarily superior to the UNSC's, just different. Their weapons though…with this special element they employed to make their technology work, they could immensely improve their MAC's.

But the ONI spooks had been clear. If the Citadel was restricted to the Mass Relays, the UNSC needed to focus on other advantages that the alien tech might offer them. "In that case, schematics for your communication systems and infantry shield designs will be a good way to soothe my superiors' anger. Additionally, we will need a vessel with a special drive core to navigate this…Mass Relay…towards the new colonization sites."

The three exchanged a few looks between themselves.

"We see. This offer is acceptable," said the Asari.

Hackett thought it odd how quickly they agreed. He wasn't that old; at age forty, very few navy personnel could call themselves a senior commissioned officer. Compared to some of the older Admirals, who were running seventy at least, he could be considered more of a teen than anything else. And lady Ser'aphim was likely seven times his age. Nonetheless, he had enough experience to understand that the aliens were keeping something hidden from him.

He would leave it to Akuma to gently take the information from them, without anyone noticing.

"We are, of course, perfectly willing to give, as well as take," said the Elder Devil. "What is it precisely that you expect from us?"

The Salarian took a breath. "The Citadel Council wields a great deal of influence over her member species. We ensure the independence of all of our associate members, we pursue trade deals and even share our technology. It ensures peace and prosperity for all involved."

Hackett raised a sceptical eyebrow. "If I might ask, are you intending to have us join you as an associate member?"

"Our first priority is peace," the Asari quickly said. "However, the way I understand it, the position will not be different from the diplomatic relations between the humans and the Liminals."

Akuma chuckled. A disarming gesture that quickly silenced all present alien diplomats. "I am afraid I might have been unclear in my brief explanation. That, or perhaps there was a misunderstanding. Our military body, the UNSC, as well as our government, the UEG, are composed of both humans as Liminal species. Aside from conflicts in our…less official instances…there is no notion of distinction. Our people are fully intertwined with each other, fully integrated within society. There is no more stigma caused by our species than there is caused by the pigment of our skin, or the color of our hair."

Hackett thought that she wasn't being entirely honest. Liminals were still contested in some dark regions in space, and some of the most powerful organizations within the UEG were starkly opposed to Liminal rights.

But the Council didn't need to know that.

The Asari was quick to understand though. It looked like she was the most gracious negotiator of the three. "Ah, I see. Perhaps that is for the better. Your current state of war would complicate the procedure to galaxy-shaking levels. Our government does not handle stressful situations lightly. In that regard, I am grateful we were able to move beyond Fleet Commander Tarankus' insubordination."

"We will of course be keeping the captured technology and assets from the ground war," Hackett pointed out.

"Agreed, but only if you return the remains of the fallen Turian soldiers," the Primarch said with surprising conviction.

"I see were are dealing with a cultured species, as well as a disciplined one," saod Akuma.

This time, the Turian Primarch was not silenced by her charming manner of acting "The Hierarchy looks after her soldiers, alive or perished."

Hackett nodded, sensing a caring military officer within the Turian. Good. "Not all bodies are in suitable position to be returned," he slowly said, recalling the uncanny interest ONI had in the alien cadavers, "but we will see to it that their remains, whenever applicable, will be returned to the Hierarchy."

The Primarch sighed a breath of what Hackett assumed was relief. "Good. Thank you, Admiral."

"We will search for garden-class worlds for your civilian government to colonize in the future, as well as assist with the building of _one_ ship for colonization purposes capable of traveling via the Mass Relay," said the Salarian.

Hackett hated to admit it, but their way of traveling to set destinations was probably more efficient. "We appreciate it."

"In return, however, we ask that you disclose the location of your existing colonies, as well as agree to leave all dormant Mass Relays untouched. We have been forced to fight our own wars due to reckless opening of dormant Mass Relays."

"We agree to leave the Relays untouched. We hopefully won't need them. However, it is absolutely _critical_ that the location of our colonies remains a secret."

The Salarian appeared confused. "Oh? Might I ask why?"

"Simple," Hackett growled. "The only reason the Covenant hasn't been destroying our worlds left and right, is because they don't _know_ where they are. Their FTL is leagues ahead of ours, and if they were to map out our colonies, they could annihilate us within a year."

"Unacceptable!" the Primarch declared.

"We-"

"The secrecy of your colonies must take priority over diplomatic demands. We will accept your counter-offer."

Hackett cut himself off. "…thank you."

The Salarian shot an angry look at the Turian. "I am very interested in the origin of this Covenant's FTL," she then said. "As well as the UNSC's. How, exactly, did you come to gain a system of colonies without the use of Mass Relays?"

"Our Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine functions by creating rupture between standard space and the nonstandard physics of slipspace, allowing it to be used as a shortcut real and facilitating Interstellar travel between distant regions in reasonable time," Hackett droned out, reciting the textbook explanation of the physics-breaking maneuver that eluded even the most brilliant scientists.

"Hmmm…very interesting…and highly dangerous."

"The finer details will have to be discussed another time."

The three alien representatives agreed to that, and they breached other subjects. The history of the Interspecies Exchange Bill, the history of the UNSC and the UEG and even the course of the Human-Covenant war, and how it had already claimed billion lives.

The aliens had been horrified to hear of the damage that the Covenant had wrought to their colonies. Akuma was eager to change the subject however, and as ONI themselves didn't know a thing about the alien empire, there weren't much details to share.

Agreeing on trade proposals was a difficult thing to do, as the UNSC was less than thrilled to be receiving alien vessels in their systems, lest an incident like this one transpire again.

"Our offer to welcome your kind into the embrace of the Citadel will remain open," said the Asari. "Should your people accept it, we will gladly pursue active trade routes."

Akuma inclined her head. "We appreciate the offer, Matriarch. I do wish that our people could promise each other more than the simple notion of peace. However, I am certain that our superiors might see the mutual exchange of technology as beneficial. In time, we might be able to strengthen our bonds and expand our peace."

After that last offer, there was nothing more to discuss. Both sides had to report to their superiors and Hackett was fairly certain that there was an ONI agent already waiting in his private quarters for a personal debriefing.

He hoped that this would result in some actual benefits for mankind. They could truly use the advantage.

As the delegates of the Citadel Council took their leave, Staff Sergeant Augeron Akhal-Teke walked up next to Hackett.

"Do you think they will cause us trouble in the future, sir?" He asked with a heavy voice.

"Maybe not officially," replied Hackett. "But I don't think it's the Citadel we need to worry about."

"Did another colony get hit? So soon?"

"We don't know for certain. Clucius just went dark, that's all. It might be a communication error."

The Centaur grunted with unease. "I pray you are right, sir."

Yes…so did he.

~0~

* * *

 _ **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: WARFARE: EQUIPMENT: MARINE BDU**_

 _"Water shapes its course according to the nature of the ground over which it flows; the soldier works out his victory in relation to the foe whom he is facing. Therefore, just as water retains no constant shape, so in warfare there are no constant conditions."_

 _\- often attributed to Sun Tzu_

 _In an ever-changing environment like the battlefield, the soldier will often be faced with offensive technology that can and will overwhelm his defensive equipment. For decades, military companies as well as other producers have searched for the "perfect" body armor. With the introduction of Arachne species in society, many believe this search to be over._

 _Spider silk is light and flexible, and is stronger by weight than high-grade steel. Its applications span a wide range of industries, from surgical sutures for doctors to protective wear for the military. In the modern battlefield, the average set of body armor crafted this way is resistant to small arms fire and, in some documented cases, even capable of stopping larger caliber rounds._

 _Unfortunately, due to the extreme temperatures of directed energy weapons, the average BDU can't take more than one or two plasma strikes before buckling._

~0~

* * *

 **AN:** _I need to point out that this is actually my first "First Contact" scenario. It's nothing special, as it is still more of a prologue to the actual story, but as one reviewer already pointed out, it's still significant._

 _So yeah, I'm trying to build up the universe before actually engaging the proper "harem" format of the plot. Rest assured, it will still be coming. As a matter of fact, the next chapter will contain marginally more Master Chief than this one._


	5. 1,3: Daily life in the Outer Colonies

**AN:** _at this point, all the characters we encounter are fair game. Place your bets, don your lucky charms and be warned that we are accelerating through the timeline again,_

 _Also, when I said this story wasn't entirely serious…well, I must stress "entirely". This will be another one of those "dark" chapters, but a writer has to build their world damnit!_

~0~

* * *

 **2527**

 **January**

 _The Covenant locates and glasses Clucius._

 _Lilim Shepard is promoted to Second Lieutenant for the third time after her fifth total count of insubordination. Shortly thereafter, she is reassigned to the 105_ _th_ _Drop Jet Platoon._

* * *

 _ **March**_

 _The Citadel Council officially grants the UEG/UNSC leadership the rights to colonize garden-worlds in private sections of Citadel Space, as well as the right to start exploring beyond the Forerunner Arm._

 _The UEG names and makes plans to colonize the following worlds._

 _Eden Prime_

 _Elysium_

 _Horizon_

 _Mindoir_

 _New Campton_

 _Noveria_

 _Feros_

* * *

 _ **April**_

 _The Covenant locates and glasses Carolus II_

 _Plans for the first UNSC ship with an Element Zero drive core are developed._

 _A fifth of the survivors of the Battle of Shanxi begin to develop spontaneous mutations. The mutagenic properties of [DATA REDACTED, DESIGNATION UNKNOWN ELEMENT] become public. Citizens and military personnel exposed to Unknown Element are being screened for cancerous growths._

* * *

 _ **June**_

 _The Black Fang terrorist organization launches an attack on a Templar Order vessel, destroying it in a surprise attack. Over the course of June, hundreds of Liminals are killed in retaliation by extremist members of Templar Order churches._

 _The Citadel Council fully integrates the translation package for the English language into their systems and work is underway for the Spanish translation._

* * *

 _ **August**_

 _FTL drives using Element Zero are officially deemed as too expensive to use in military vessels, and are used for colonizing purposes only._

 _Plans for augmenting existing Deuterium nuclear fusion reactors are developed._

 _Donnel Udina is promoted to ambassador and assigned as Akuma Ser'aphim's assistant to begin diplomatic envoy to the Citadel._

* * *

 _~0~_

 **2528**

 _ **February 13**_ _ **th**_

 _The Battle of XI Boötis A takes place. The UNSC wins a victory against the Covenant, losing 20 out of 60 ships in destroying 8 Covenant warships. The battle is a total, if costly, victory._

* * *

 _ **February 20**_ _ **th**_

 _Saren Arterius' fateful First Contact with Sergeant A.J Johnson inspired him to join the Spectres. Given strength beyond normal Turian abilities by remembering said contact, Saren becomes the youngest Turian ever to be inducted into the Spectres._

* * *

 _ **March**_

 _The Covenant locates and glasses Madrigal._

* * *

 _~0~_

 **2529**

 _ **August**_

 _The last of the civilians and military personnel exposed to "Element Zero" above Shanxi are cured of detrimental effects. The UNSC discovers the potential of Biotics._

 _An international effort to track element zero exposures begins. Roughly 10% of recorded exposed children show indications of biotic ability._

* * *

 _ **November**_

 _The Covenant locates Hat Yai. Most of the civilians are swiftly killed during the first few days. A collection of Orbital Drop Shock Troopers containing Liminal and human forces land and succeed in repelling the Covenant invasion forces._

 _Facing imminent defeat in space, the UNSC evacuates the surviving military forces._

 _The UNSC Navy is defeated by the Covenant._

 _The Covenant glasses Hat Yai._

* * *

 _~0~_

 ** _2530_**

 _Five years into the war, the Covenant Empire realizes that ground assault on human colonies will always be met with defeat. In order to increase the effectiveness of the cleansing campaign, the military doctrine undergoes several drastic changes._

 _The Covenant locates and glasses Eridanus II._

 _The first experimental kinetic barriers are adopted within specialized ODST suits…_

~0~

Private Marcus Stacker, freshly recruited into the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, stood atop the hill and unleashed salvo after salvo on the Covenant bastards that dared invade Eridanus II. He was a young man, barely into his twenties, but his Commanding Officers had thought him a promising soldier and soon, he found himself testing new technology in the UNSC's desperate and sometimes half-assed attempts to close the technological gap between them and the Covenant.

"Stacker!" Shouted his Sergeant. "It's time! Do it!"

Stacker smirked, and emerged from his cover. A perfect, orange bullseye had been painted across his chest and he smirked as his HUD displayed that the barriers were fully charged. "Heh," he smirked. "And my mom thought I'd be a doctor." To the Covenant forces, Jackals mostly, he yelled, "Hey, I heard you fellas taste JUST LIKE CHICKEN!"

The Covvies took the bait, and soon all sorts of plasma was blowing his way. Stacker imagined himself back on Earth, receiving a medal for bravery and courage, when one of the plasma bolts struck him,

The kinetic barriers worked perfectly, and completely stopped the bolt. However, that still left the Private with a problem in the shape of a bolt of ionized gas hot enough to melt through Titanium grade-A armour plating _designed_ to withstand heat, having been stopped _directly_ in front of his chest, which definitely had _not_ been designed to withstand heat.

Stacker went down screaming, and the Sergeant facepalmed.

"Medic!"

~0~

… _and immediately discarded as useless against directed energy weapons. Further research commences._

* * *

 _~0~_

 **2531**

 _A shipping incident exposes a team of Slime Girls to Element Zero._

 _~0~_

"Ehm…guys? Are Slimes meant to glow like that?"

"It's probably a chemical reaction or something. Come on ladies, get yourself together and we'll find you a specialist. Dave? Do you think Slimes can get tumors?"

"There's DNA _…somewhere_ …so it might be possible. Then again…shit, I don't know."

"Seriously Tim, look at them! They're glowing!"

"Calm down Greg, it's just -Amalia, what are you doing? Am -no! Bad girl! Put Dave down at once!"

"Heeeeeelp meeeeee!"

"Oh god, they've suddenly become telekinetic! Get me the hell out of here!"

"Calm your tits Greg! Em, put that man down right this instant! No -no! I didn't say "dangle both of them helplessly into the air with a miniature black hole created with your mind", I said put him down!"

"Tim? Is it just me, or did gravity suddenly disappear?"

"We're aboard an advanced military freighter, gravity doesn't just _disappear_!"

"Holy sweet Jesus…the girls figured out how to stop gravity. No Amalia, bad girl! Stop shapeshifting, it was just a metaphor!"

 _~0~_

 _ONI is currently searching for personnel willing to train Biotic Slime Girls for the M7 program_

* * *

 _~0~_

 **2532**

 _The UNSC finishes the construction of the_ UNSC Tablespoon, the _very first starship capable of traversing the Mass Relay network. The Office of Naval Intelligence prioritizes further diplomatic liaisons with the Citadel Council and assigns a new crew to the_ Tablespoon _. Akuma Ser'aphim and Donnel Udina are immediately contacted for this assignment, as well as a security detail._

* * *

 _~0~_

 **2533**

 _The human politicians make official contact with the Citadel Council and are granted an embassy on the Citadel within half an hour._

 _All reports of Akuma Ser'aphim using her hypnotic abilities as an Elder Devil on the Council are to be dismissed as scuttlebutt without a solid basis._

"These insinuations are an outrage! Lady Ser'aphim's diplomatic skills are the stuff of legends! The UNSC would have stepped in if a human had been accused!"

-Ambassador Udina

~0~

* * *

 ** _2535_**

 _ **February 10**_ _ **th**_

 _The Covenant locates Jericho VII._

* * *

 _ **February 11**_ _ **th**_

 _Much to the surprise of the human defenders, Turian reinforcements arrive in-system, going directly against the crucial Citadel orders to stay out of the Human-Covenant War. The 6 Frigates and 3 Cruisers immediately link up with Captain De Blanc, bolstering the remaining fleet of 50 vessels to 59._

 _~0~_

 **Aboard Turian Cruiser** _ **Hailing Duty**_

Captain Tracheus of the 25th Fleet watched his screens as the Cruiser drifted towards the human planet, where dozens of warships were fighting and destroying each other in an orchestrated chaos. He immediately found the human ships, positioned a few thousand kilometres away from the planet, as well as a fleet of unidentified ships he assumed was the Covenant fleet, positioned to their "left".

When he had caught the news that another human colony had come under attack -a colony _this_ close to his scouting group nonetheless- his crew had known exactly what to do. This was their chance to make up for their failure to broker peace, all those years ago.

"The human Captain is hailing is sir!" Said one of his officers.

"Put him on-screen," replied Tracheus. He calmly folded his arms behind his back and faced the screen, where the human Captain soon appeared."

" _You picked a hell of a timing to meddle with our affairs,"_ said the Captain. Such hostility…but it was to be expected.

"Officially, the Turian Hierarchy maintains a strict no-trespass enforcement on the human systems," replied Tracheus.

" _And unofficially?"_

"Unofficially, soldiers do not believe in material reparations for lost souls. We repay blood with blood."

" _And that explains you snooping around in UNSC-controlled space?"_

Tracheus didn't even blink as he said, "You have my word that no relevant data is being gathered. When this battle is finished, you may personally inspect our databases. Rest assured that the Turian Hierarchy will deny our presence here, and leave us to hang when pressed."

" _So why risk coming here?"_

"As I said. We Turians believe in martial honour, and ours demands we repay the UNSC for our transgressions nine years ago."

The human Captain nodded, as if understanding.

What was Tracheus thinking, of course the human understood. They were both soldiers, both officers.

" _Captain de Blanc,"_ the human eventually said.

"Well met. I am Captain Tracheus."

" _Alright Captain, I'm not very picky at this moment. You will link up to our systems and follow my lead. You do that, and we might we just get out of this one alive."_

This was Tracheus' first time seeing the dreaded Covenant, let alone fight them. He was not going to stupidly risk the lives of his crew by charging in without thinking. "Acknowledged. Send us the relevant data."

As his technicians worked feverishly to help the _Hailing Duty_ link up with the human ship, Captain Tracheus took a few moments to get familiarized with the UNSC's fleet. There were dozens of ships, and as he mapped them on his tactical overview, the designation that went with them popped up next to the individual vessels. There were the Cruiser-sized Frigates, a strange class of combat-orientated vessels aptly called "Destroyers" and even two absolutely massive ships that were easily three times the size of the mightiest of Turian Dreadnoughts, which scaled up to a measly -in comparison- size of 900 Citadel meters.

The Turian Captain had to shake his head at those monsters. They were at least 2700 Citadel meters, making them as large as the Citadel's largest warship, the _Destiny Ascension_. And there were two of these things! What in Palaven's name could the Covenant possibly be fielding to warrant a fleet like this?

A quick look at the Covenant's fleet told him just that; the reason why the UNSC built even their Frigates like floating bunkers armed with Dreadnought-class weaponry. There were a total of 37 Covenant vessels which, judging by the footage that the Turian spy-drones were gathering, seemed to be constructed out of a tasteful shade of purple.

And they were _all_ twice the size of the Hierarchy's Dreadnoughts. There were long, vaguely organic-shaped warships with many bulbous sections and warships with slanted, pointed rears and sleek, bulbous fronts, but all of them absolutely dwarfed Tracheus' Cruiser, which suddenly didn't feel all that "heavy" anymore.

"Spirits," he gasped upon seeing the Covenant's fleet. The UNSC easily outnumbered their foe, but when the Captain reviewed some of the footage that his sensors caught, he started to wonder why they hadn't brought in _more_.

"All hands battle stations!" Barked Captain Tracheus. "Let's cut these bastards down to size. Push reactors to ninety percent and set a course to grid nineteen-twelve, full speed. Prepare FTL jump as soon as the enemy returns fire.

The colours in the bridge changed and the crew jumped to their tasks. The entire Hierarchy battlegroup shifted and the _Duty's_ weapon systems charged up.

On-screen, a handful of Covenant ships moved to intercept Tracheus' fleet. He didn't care that they didn't bother to hail their ships. It only confirmed his suspicions.

"Captain, the human officer sent us our orders!"

"Good," growled Tracheus. "Let us go to war!"

~0~

* * *

 _Second Lieutenant Lilim Shepard encounters Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 for the first time_

 _~0~_

"This is Sergeant Arisa! Requesting immediate reinforcements, over!"

Lilim drew her sidearm and shot one of the rapidly-approaching Grunts in its face. The armour-piercing high-explosive bullet tore through its mask and blew its brain across the ground in a shower of gore, but there were always more to take its place. Even as the little body tumbled back down the hill of rubble and debris, more of the aliens came charging at them, filling the air with plasma and purple needles.

"This AO is in danger of being overrun! We need support ASAP!"

One of the Grunts attempted to blindside them, jumping at them from the overhang of the blown-out house, but Lilim's senses were much sharper than that of her teammates and she lashed out with her tail, ensnaring the little alien around his throat and pulling him close to her.

Several bolts of plasma splashed across the pile of rubble that now served as their cover and Lilim quickly pulled the Grunt up, letting it take the hits for her.

"Thank you, sweet," she whispered to the diminutive alien as she released its smoking carcass. She pocketed its plasma pistol and threw it towards the Sergeant. "There will not be any reinforcements, Arisa. Put your focus where we need it."

The Lizardman caught the weapon and glared it at from underneath his nonreflective helmet. He failed to come up with any sound arguments however, and quickly gave in to her will. "I won't let this rock be the death of us, Shepard."

"Heads-up!" Cried Corporal Jackson. His heavy voice easily boomed over the cries of bloodthirsty Grunts and Jackals and to the attention of the rest of their squad. "Enemy air-support!"

Lilim quickly scanned the sky, searching for the sign that the battle was deteriorating faster. The house they had taken cover in was positioned at an intersection. They had the high ground, but there were dozens of Grunts and Jackals swarming them from both flanks.

There, just as the Heavyweight Centaur had told them, multiple Banshees were rapidly approaching their position from the east. The alien fliers boasted plasma that burned through infantry defensive systems with ease, and anti-vehicle weaponry that could blow a hole clean through Scorpion MBT's. If these fliers got a beat on their position, one strike would leave them all dead.

"Jackhammer those Banshees!" Lilim ordered Jackson. The Heavyweight obeyed without question, stampeded down the hill through a mob of charging Grunts, straight towards the spot where the M41 SPNKr had landed at the end of the last enemy assault. He cut through the manic, screaming aliens with a diamond-coated machete and bowled over a pair of Jackals as he went for the launcher.

Lilim, Arisa and Lineola, an Empusa with confidence-problems, all moved towards the front of the ruined house and unleashed a hellish crossfire on the approaching Covenant soldiers. Shepard's past with the Order Church and several Commanding Officers had left her with a severe trust issue when it came to humans, so the 105th, always looking after their own, had put together a squad with only Liminal Helljumpers.

They cut down every alien that tried to swarm the Centaur, the little Grunts as well as those Jackals with their glowing shields. Plasma flashed, the air crackled and the air was thick with the stench of ozone.

The Banshees came closer, three of them. They formed a loose V-form and opened fire. Bolts of superheated plasma punctuated the air, splashed across the surface of the building they were using as cover. Bricks exploded, exposed wood caught fire or was instantly vaporized and pieces of molten shrapnel pelted their suits.

Jackson raised the launcher, took a moment to steady his aim and then unleashed the Jackhammer's bite. A burst of heat and a plume of smoke erupted from the weapon and the Banshee he was aiming at became a ball of flame and falling shrapnel.

The Centaur roared with savage delight, but the remaining Banshees opened up with another salvo, and his manly cry quickly rose several octaves as he ducked for cover.

"Shepard!" Cried Arisa. "I got word of reinforcements!"

"Good," said the Elder Devil. "How many?"

"Say again? Fifteen is too many! We won't last five!"

"Arisa! How many?"

"Three soldiers are breaking through towards our position…and we'll get air support in fifteen mikes."

"Three?" Lineola exclaimed with horror. "Shit, that's all?"

"Alright," muttered Lilim. "We can do fifteen…" She emptied her pistol at a Jackal who became too brazen, then narrowed her eyes when she saw something move in the smoking crater that had been left when enemy artillery had laid waste to this city. She saw shapes, shimmering in the air, ever so subtly,

She didn't trust it, and snatched a grenade from her belt with her tail. She pulled the pin and threw it at the enemy positon. The explosive device flew straight and true and landed in the middle of the crater, whereupon it exploded with enough force to expose a trio of massive, humanoid-looking aliens clad in full, cyan armor with large plasma rifles.

One of them carried armor that looked like it was solid gold. A made a gesture with its right hand, and what looked like two wands of light that tapered at the point seemed to activate within its grasp, forming the glowing outline of what was most likely its plasma sword. Even through the smoke, Lilim could see through their faceplates, noticing their rows of sharp teeth.

Lilim felt her blood run cold. She had heard of these aliens before; but she had never truly faced them. Elites, the leaders called them. The warrior cast, meant to be the best of the best. Five years into the war, they had started leading the assaults and missions on the surface of every planet they invaded.

There wasn't a single self-respecting soldier who hadn't heard of these creatures, and the carnage they had wrought.

The Elder Devil felt the muscles in her wings tense up. She was ready for some bloody payback.

Arisa and Lineola immediately grabbed their MA5 rifles and opened fire on the Elite aliens, even as the golden one charged at them. The massive reptilian aliens thundered up the hill of rubble, shrugging off 7,62mm rounds with shimmering energy shields that fully covered their entire bodies.

What did it take to kill these things?

Lilim was vaguely aware of someone speaking to her via TACCOM, but she barely had the time to register it before the golden Elite lunged for her with its blade, intent on severing her head from her shoulders.

Trusting her team to fend for themselves, the Elder Devil stepped closer and slammed her elbow against the Elite's face, before quickly leaping away to escape from that plasma blade. She manipulated her suit via her HUD and opened the two straps of metal that covered her neatly-folded wings, releasing them to their fullest glory.

The alien warrior roared at her, splitting its four mandibles in what looked like its equivalent of an infuriated snarl. It then lunged for her with its blade, chaining together a series of rapid slashes that came so close to her face that they sent washes of static cascading across her HUD.

At the end of the last blow however, Lilim's right leg snapped out and connected with the alien's head. It staggered backwards even as the Elder Devil mockingly curtsied.

Adopting a more cautious approach, the golden-clad warrior started circling her, in an odd display of martial prowess. So it wasn't a mindless beast then?

" _This is Blue team. Encountering resistance. ETA five minutes."_

Lilim didn't bother to reply. As far as she was concerned, a trio of soldiers were of no use to her. Fifteen minutes. That was how long she needed to survive.

But the way this fight was going, it would only take fifteen seconds.

The Elite lunged for her again. The sword passed by her head harmlessly as she spun sideways, flapped her wings to push her backwards and then retaliated from the alien's side. She struck the creature with two lightning-fast jabs, but its energy shield easily took the hit and it spun around too, dragging its sword through the air with surprising speed.

Lilim ducked low, shifted her weight and then lashed out with her legs, striking the alien twice against its stomach with her boots. She then pushed herself up and away and let her wings carry her to a safe distance again, just out of the alien's reach.

It was faster and stronger than her, but as an Elder Devil, she easily surpassed it with experience and finesse. She was nearly two-hundred years old now, and she had spent most of her time fighting. Certainly not always against the right people, and sometimes she had taken to violent actions against the wrong people, but she was certainly not going to lose against this alien.

As a matter of fact, perhaps it was time to take this fight more seriously.

Shepard drew her combat knife and went on the offensive, dodging and weaving past the Elites sword-strikes and delivering powerful blows to its head and stomach in return. Her reflexes were greater than its, and she was by far the more mobile combatant.

At one point, the alien's shield flickered and died, and it struck its last blow. There was a blur of motion as the blade sliced through Lilim's knife and carved a trail through her chest…

…at least, that was what she willed him to see. The Elite dealt his blow to the hallucination that Lilim had planted in its mind, diverting it from its real opponent.

And with that, she elegantly leapt atop its back and stabbed it in its neck with the second knife that she always kept strapped to her boot, as her very first Sergeant had taught her to.

The diamond-coated blade effortlessly pierced the alien's skin, slicing through its rock-hard muscles with impunity. Lilim increased her grip on the knife and then ripped it out sideways, putting an end to the golden Elite.

Its purple blood splattered across her face as she pulled her knife out and she grunted in disgust. She _hated_ blood. "Lineola, stop staring and take care of that Jackal!"

The Empusa, who had been trying to find an opening to aid her in her fight, firmly nodded and resumed the fight, gunning down a trio of Grunts that was coming too close.

" _This is Blue team. Hostiles neutralized. Proceeding to your location."_

Lilim rolled with her eyes and approached the side of the building again, silently praying that Jackson and Arisa were still alive and kicking.

As it turned out, they were definitely kicking. Arisa slammed his armoured tail across the face of the Elite he was fighting with, before unloading the rest of his magazine into its face. Jackson meanwhile held a squirming Jackal under his heavily muscled arm, while taking potshots at his Elite with a shotgun, which he fired one-handed.

"This is my world!" He bellowed at the alien, before charging it with enough force to send it crashing through a wall. "You are not welcome in my world, invader!"

The Elite didn't seem to particularly care. It rushed Jackson straight back again and grabbed the Centaur's wrist, wrenching the shotgun away from his face. It was a blue one, who looked far more eager to throw himself into the fray with reckless abandon than the golden one had been.

The Heavyweight huffed and jerked his other arm upwards, breaking the neck of the Jackal he had been holding in the process. The two were evenly matched at first, but Jackson's sheer weight worked in his advantage, and he threw the Elite back with a violent shove.

Stumbling backwards, the Elite couldn't do anything to protect itself as the Heavyweight reared back on his two hindlegs, dealt a massive blow to its chest and then pinned it to the ground, before unloading two shotgun blasts into its face. "That's what you get!"

And just like that, the fight was over. An uneasy silence followed the last Elite's demise, and Lilim frowned. The Grunts and Jackals were even retreating down the wrecked streets they had been coming from.

She didn't trust it. "Keep your eyes open," she told her team. "Lineola, anything?"

The Mantis-Girl grimaced for a moment, straining her hearing for anything that might give their enemies away. "No…wait, I have something. It's-"

They found out what it was on their own, as Jackson suddenly roared in fury, soon followed by the chilling sound of plasma weapons discharging.

Lilim gasped and whirled around, just in time to see another Elite materializing out of nowhere, at the top of a smoking building. It opened fire on Jackson, who was barely fast enough to bring his arms up in a primal reflex to guard himself from the flaring plasma. His right arm caught two bolt that were meant for his face and they burned through his limb with ludicrous ease.

The Elite raised its own arm and roared. Behind it, a second one materialized, soon followed by a third and fourth one.-

"Contact!" Shouted Arisa. "Hostile contact!"

More of the invisible aliens appeared out of nowhere on the rooftops, and Arisa and Jackson were only barely able to get to cover before the Covenant warriors turned the street into glassed-over rubble.

A lopsided fight turned into a sudden struggle for life as the four Helljumpers were forced to engage their enemy on all sides, surrounded and outgunned by the warrior Elites.

" _Blue team here. ETA: one minute."_

Lilim soon found herself running low on ammo, and the useless reminder of the fact that the Covenant had overpowered most units on the ground wasn't something she wanted to deal with at the moment. With her wings fully unfolded, she was beyond a doubt the most mobile combatant on the field, but even she was unable to fully avoid all plasma bolts that the Covenant was casting down.

She leapt back and avoided a salvo of plasma fire, before gunning down one of the Elites as it attempted to flank her.

Jackson avoided one of the Elites as it gestured at him and roared, clutching the smoking stump of his right arm. He drew his sidearm with his remaining hand and shot the offending alien in the face, but the shimmering shields stopped the 12,7mm bullet dead in its tracks.

The Elites were not content with letting the Grunts and the Jackals finish the ODST squad off, and they actively kept them out of the way in a twisted display of eagerness for glory, or perhaps even honor. They even came at the Helljumpers one by one, as if they did not want to have their fight tainted by interference.

" _ETA: thirty seconds."_

Heavy, pounding steps were coming from the main street and in the brief moment LIlim bought herself by breaking the neck of one of the red-clad Elites, she managed to catch a glimpse at what manner of creature was throwing itself into the chaos at _this_ point.

When she saw what it was, she felt a stab of real, genuine fear. Something she hadn't felt in a _long_ time. As an Elder Devil, she was proud to be known for her composed and calm demeanor, and she had seen many things that could inspire fear into a lesser creature. This time however, she could not easily dismiss the feeling.

The two creatures were vaguely man-shaped, but they stood nearly ten feet tall and were covered from head to toe with a dull blue-gray armor. To Lilim's, it looked suspiciously like the hull of a starship. Blue, orange, and yellow highlights were visible on the few patches of exposed skin the creatures sported. They had slits where their eyes should be and that was perhaps even more disconcerting than their armament, which consisted out of a massive shield on their left arm and an enormous, wide-barreled energy weapon on their right.

The creatures moved closer and Lilim corrected herself. The creature's entire right arm consisted out of cannon. She was glad to have that cleared up.

One of the aliens raised its arm slightly and pointed at Shepard.

The Elder Devil shot the alien creature a glare, planting a hallucination within its mind that it was being outflanked this very moment.

It didn't take and the massive Covenant soldier opened fire.

Shepard gasped and leapt out of the way, further augmenting her speed with her wings. A split-second later, a flash of light blinded her. There was a deafening explosion and a wave of heat, which was so intense that it sent lances of burning pain down her entire back.

Her ears were ringing, her limbs tingling. She needed a full five seconds to recover her vision and even then, she didn't see anything but blurry shapes. It was hard to tell, but the ground she had just vacated had been replaced by a burning crater that fanned outwards, leaving nothing inside of the house but charcoal and ash.

Lineola was nowhere to be seen, but Shepard thought she saw Arisa, tending to Jackson, desperately trying to distract the aliens from his writhing and shocked comrade.

"Arisa!" Lilim cried, biting back the tears that the searing pain across her back was causing her. She couldn't move her wings, let alone try to get a bearings on her situation. "Take Jackson and get the hell out of here!"

The Lizardman emptied his shotgun and then used it as a club to crush the skull of an Elite that was coming too close. "No! I won't abandon you!"

Lilim yelled a curse in her native language and climbed back to her feet, ignoring pain of her body aching in protest. She saw the two massive aliens walking closer, carefully protecting themselves from stray fire with those massive shields.

Miraculously, her COMM still worked. " _ETA: ten seconds."_

For all the good that did. A couple of soldiers wouldn't make a difference! They were going to die here, unless the UNSC could get some air support in!

One of the aliens took aim at the cover where Arisa and Jackson had taken their refuge. With a flash of green light, it fired its weapon again, and the entire section was flash-vaporized.

"No!" Lilim shouted. She spotted a Covenant weapon nearby and she instinctively reached for it. Blurred senses and crippled wings or not, she wasn't going to watch her squad die here.

The bolt of plasma impacted on the alien's midsection and splashed across its armor, but it didn't seem to even register the attack. Only because it tracked the direction of the incoming fire did the armoured alien seem to spot Lilim, and even then it seemed to shake itself in frustration as it realigned his weapon from the badly-wounded Lizardman to the deviant Elder Devil, before a series of large spikes seemed to raise up from its back.

The massive plasma weapon glowed with a sickening glow, and Lilim Shepard refused to back down, firing her own weapon until it overheated and forced her to drop it. Even had she been able to dodge the creature's attack, she wouldn't. She was not going to let Jackson and Arisa take the blow.

" _We have arrived."_

Lilim glared defiantly at the alien as it raised its weapon again-

-only for something dark and impossibly-fast to blur past her, impacting on the massive alien like an armored missile and dragging it ninety degrees around with its momentum alone. It then lunged for the second alien, moving with such blistering speed that it was more of a blur than anything, crossing the half a dozen meters that separated the two targets in an instant.

A second shape launched itself at the first of the massive aliens, landing on its back with enough force to shatter the concrete underneath the alien's massive boots. The second figure -larger and more heavily-armoured than any human Lilim had ever seen before- then plunged its fist into the alien's exposed back with a lightning-fast jab, before retracting it and leaping up and away and from the creature. It backflipped in midair, drew two pistols and in the blink of an eye, gunned down two Elites that were left staring by the sudden assault.

The first contact dealt with the second of the massive aliens and, in a blur of motion, it leapt over the creature's frame and ended up behind it.

It was over in the blink of an eye. Lilim gasped with surprise as an explosion of gore and fire burst outwards from the first creature, which screamed and died. Moments later, even as both of the armoured figures were already engaging the rest of the Covenant forces, the second monstrosity exploded too.

The entire spectacle had lasted seconds.

"Show-offs," she muttered.

Someone reached out for Lilim and helped her back to her feet. She was surprised to see that it was Lineola, bleeding and battered, but still alive. Her scythe-arms were coated in alien blood.

"You're hurt," the Empusa said, before carefully picking Shepard up and supporting her with her two scythe-like arms.

"And you've been busy. Good girl." The Elder Devil couldn't take her eyes off of the two soldiers that had come to their aid. Three Elites, all armed with those plasma swords, charged at one of the human-shaped troops, all at the same time. It moved with blinding speed and intercepted the Covenant soldiers before they could even _think_ of swinging their swords at it. It whirled underneath one alien's arm and impaled it through its own chest with the sword, then caught the second alien mid-swing, snapped its limb with an mere brush and proceeded to unleash several lightning-fast punches at its chest and head, crushing its bones. The third one was about to stab at it when the soldier jumped and kicked it against its head, sending the Elite tumbling away at least a dozen meters.

Barely a second passed as the armoured figure dispatched of the Covenant Elites. What _were_ these things?

A third one had appeared top the roof, and all three of them were just…mopping up. They laid down fields of fire so powerful, so accurate, that nearly half the Elites were cut down during the first few moments of their onslaught. The rest was quickly and brutally dispatched in close quarters. The three armoured figures moved like shadows and struck like lightning. They snapped limbs and necks with simple movements, crushed armour and bones wherever they struck and soon, the ground was covered with gore.

They stood over seven feet tall, clad in a strange armor with reflective green alloys atop a matte black . They looked like they weighed at least as much as a Heavyweight Centaur or Arachne, but they moved like they barely had the weight of a Harpy to carry. Their movements were so graceful, yet so precise. Fluid, but ridiculously-fast.

On a certain level, it was _insulting_ that the Covenant would just drop everything that they were doing to engage these three soldiers. "Lin, we're not finished yet."

"What?"

Lilim grunted when the muscles in her back aggravated the wounds again. "Your gun. Do you still have it?"

"I…yes!" She pulled out her sidearm with one of her more human arms. "But the reinforcements are here now. We should regroup."

"Not yet," replied Shepard. "The Covenant just gave us an opportunity, and we won't ignore it."

The Empusa carefully laid her down against a fallen pillar and handed her the pistol. "Keep your head down, ma'am."

The Elder Devil shrugged off the shellshock that the high-explosive plasma weapon had caused her and joined the fight once more. She wasn't as mobile as before, and definitely not as mobile as Lineola, who was still so quick on her feet that the Grunts were unable to get a bead on her. Without shields and without sufficient body armor, the little aliens were unable to protect themselves against an angry Empusa in close quarters, and Lineola quickly cut them to size, sometimes literally.

Between the three strange robots and the still very-much-alive and very-much-pissed Helljumpers, the Covenant teams didn't last long. The last Elite fell to the ground, its skull cracked open against the concrete wall by the heavily-wounded Sergeant Arisa, and then the violence was over.

One of the massive soldiers stepped towards Shepard, and she hastily crawled back to her feet when her HUD identified its insignia as that of a Master Chief Petty Officer.

"Master Chief," said the Elder Devil. Were these things _humans?_

"Lieutenant," it said with a gravelly, but very human voice. A male, then. "Are you in charge here?"

Lilim glanced at this Master Chief, wondering what sort of man was hidden beneath that helmet. It was not often that she was unable to gauge the personality and mentality of a man simply by glancing at his mannerisms. Instead of making her feel more on edge however, it made her feel curious. "In charge of this sector, correct."

The way he talked to her was like a breath of fresh air; formal, yet completely devoid of ulterior motives. "As of 13:00 Standard Military time, NavSpecWep is assuming control of this operation. All Marine and Special Forces personnel now report through our chain of command. Understand, Lieutenant?"

Shepard scowled, but remained perfectly affable and polite. "Of course, sir."

"Now, Lieutenant, brief me on what happened here."

Lilim flashed the man a smirk. " _Of course…_ sir."

While the rest of her squad tended to their wounds and, in Jackson's case, missing parts, Lilim took the Master Chief apart and proceeded to carefully relay the situation to him, making sure to learn every single detail that she could gleam from his stern, no-nonsense attitude. She had the feeling that his wouldn't the last time she would run into this man.

~0~

 _Unable to defeat the Covenant in orbit, the remnants of the joint Turian and UNSC fleet regroup and retreat._

 _~0~_

 **Aboard Turian Cruiser** _ **Hailing Duty**_

Captain Tracheus bowed his head in shame as he beheld the after-action reports. In orbit, the surviving vessels were manoeuvring to break orbit. There was not a single ship that had survived damage and even the _Hailing Duty_ required a serious refit and repair sequence. With the major population centres on the human colony flattered, and the majority of their civilians dead, the progress on the surface had been a bitter victory at most, and a humiliating defeat at worst.

Oh yes, the ground forces had performed magnificently on ground, working together with the USNC's soldiers to completely lay waste to the Covenant's ground forces. But in space however, it had been a different story.

Of the nine vessels that Tracheus had once commanded, four were left. The wolfpack that had been hunting above the planet had been ambushed by a pair of Covenant warships that just…appeared of nowhere, right atop of them. They had launched their devastating weapons and the trio of Frigates had been obliterated in an instance. Hundreds of Turians had burned and the Eezo drive cores had been dispersed right above the armies stationed on the colony, requiring them all to go through extensive checkups and surgery to prevent the malignant effects of Eezo exposure to manifest.

Tracheus still couldn't believe it. Their GARDIAN system, useless. Their Disruptor Torpedo's, unusable. Their mass accelerator weapons had not been able to punch through the powerful shields that protected the Covenant ships and their fighters had been easily repulsed.

And in return, the Covenant had made them _suffer_. Their directed energy weapons were just too powerful, too accurate. Slower than mass accelerator rounds, but so utterly devastating that they destroyed every single ship they struck in one, maximum two hits.

So when Tracheus had ordered his ships to break off their attacks to start harassing the Covenant warships at FTL speeds, throwing off those slow and devastating weapons of them, the aliens had retaliated with a different weapon system.

White-blue beams had pierced through space at speeds even the Frigates had not been able to dodge. Lances of destructive energy, cutting through his ships like the galaxy's most beefed-up GARDIAN system.

Captain Tracheus wanted nothing more than to step down, and leave the position of Captain to someone more capable, but ironically, there weren't any capable officers left in his battlegroup now. After an entire day of intensive fighting, they were leaving this colony to its fate.

The Turian Captain had the human Captain on his screen, but neither of them spoke to the other. Both merely watched the Covenant ships approach the colony like hungry Varren, their lateral lines glowing with power.

Their weapons discharged and the world burned. Lakes were vaporised, oceans boiled and disappeared, and entire countries were reduced to cinders.

Watching the human world burn, Captain Tracheus understood why the Council had not stepped in. A war of this scale would be devastating to them. Perhaps, if they stationed all of their fleets in human space, they could protect this new and promising civilization. But they would leave nothing to defend their own worlds, which would allow the Covenant to find and burn _them_ as well.

Tracheus watched the lucrative world burn, imagining that it was Palaven.

It was unacceptable. There had to be a different.

But if there was, he sure didn't see it.

One by one, the human ships jumped out of the system. Tracheus gave the order and his own battered collection of ships left this system too, never to return again.

* * *

~0~

 **Civilian calendar: 21th December 2538**

 **Present day**

 **Mindoir**

"Dracosa! Come on, get down here! Dinner's ready!"

The little Dragon perched her ears upon hearing her mother shout. Her young brain took a few moments to fully understand it, but when she did, she immediately dropped her paper book and rushed downstairs. She jumped the last few steps, as she always did whenever she was in a hurry. Her dad didn't like it very much, but he almost never chided her for it, so it was probably alright.

She rounded the corner and nearly bumped into her mom's legs. Her mother jumped backwards and cried out in surprise.

"Little rascal," mom said with a smile. "You're not a Kobold, Dracosa."

She pouted. "Mooom! I told you I didn't like that name!"

Her mother chuckled and crossed her arms. "Yes, you did. But you are a little lady, and a little lady doesn't run around with a boy's name." Mom's smile dropped somewhat. "And little ladies _also_ don't run around hitting other people in their face."

Draco felt horrified. "S-school called?"

Her mother nodded without saying a word. "Dinner table, young lady. We'll discuss it there."

The little Dragon peered around the corner and saw dad sitting at the table, hidden behind a large piece of paper. He was one of the few people in Harrowsford who read in such an old-fashioned way. The people at his work accepted it without teasing him, because dad was a big and strong Dragon, but the kids in her class didn't know that, so they often made fun of him because of it.

Draco hated it when people belittled her family and sometimes, she got so mad that she would act on instinct and…well, she guessed that was why she was going to have the dreaded "talk" at the dinner table.

"Hey dad," Draco softly said, sitting down in her chair and bumping it against the table. "So how was your work?"

"Don't try to change the subject," her mother then said, and Draco felt her horror increase. "You promised you wouldn't get into more fights."

The little Dragon let her tail hang and poked at her food with a fork. "I know…"

"So why did your school calls us this afternoon to tell us that you punched someone? Again?"

She separated her beans from the potatoes and quietly said, "It wasn't _that_ bad…"

Mom's stare increased in power. " _Twice_?"

"Easy there, Meridian," said her dad. He placed his paper away and leant forwards, meeting Draco's eyes with his own, yellow ones. He smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure little wing got a good reason for doing what she did."

Mom sighed. "A good reason for violence, Razylim?"

That remark bothered dad a lot, and he quickly looked away. And they never called each other by their names unless something really bad had happened. But what was so bad about hitting her classmates? She didn't even like them! "They said bad things about dad!" Dracosa quickly said, hoping that her parents would understand.

Her mother looked like she understood. "Oh Dracosa…honey, you're ten years old now. You can't just hit your classmates because they badmouth daddy."

Dad crossed his arms and nodded. Somehow, he had managed to wolf down half his plate in the few moments they had been talking. "Your mother is right. What did I tell you about people insulting you?"

Draco looked at her father and innocently replied, "Make them bleed?"

Daddy nearly choked to death on his food as mother shot him the most angriest glare that Draco had seen all week. "Razylim Victorias! What did you tell our daughter?"

Oooh…both names. Daddy was in big trouble now. And he felt it, too. He seemed to shy away underneath mom's glare, and he nervously scratched the base of his left horn. "I uh…I meant to say…what did _we_ tell you, honey?"

Mom groaned and placed her hand against her forehead. "Mommy shouldn't have to say this again, but Dracosa, other children aren't as strong as you, okay? If you hit one of them, you could seriously hurt them!"

"They said daddy was a terrorist," Draco then quietly said. Her mother gasped and her fork clattered to the table, while her father merely sighed and closed his eyes. The only sign of his agitation was the way the very tip of his long, black tail twitched. Draco recognized that, because she had been told that she did the same thing.

Her father broke the tension by laughing, loudly. "Did they now? And whose evil agenda was I fighting for?"

"They called you an Innie," muttered Draco. "And I told them that they were lying, I did! But then they said that I couldn't say the truth, because I don't dress like a girl!"

Her father chuckled again. And suddenly his plate was empty. "So you punched them?"

" _Raz_!" Hissed her mother. "Sweetie, I can understand why you got angry, but what do they know? Your father is an honest working man, and if your classmates don't want to believe that, they're just stupid."

"But if you punch someone hard enough little wing, you _will_ end up hurting them. And the last thing you want is blood on your hands. You're a Dragon. What's more; you're a Victorias. If they don't treat you with respect…?"

"Then they are beneath me," Draco finished her father's thought, feeling better at the serious way her parents treated this. "I know…but they're never _nice_ …"

Mother reached out and caressed her head, running her slender fingers past her stubby horns. Draco always liked it when mom did that; dad had such rough fingers, and didn't know how to be soft. Mom did, because she was a human, and humans were soft. "So next time they're acting mean, what will you do?"

Draco nodded. "I will ignore them, because…because words don't hurt me."

Mom smiled warmly. "Exactly!" And then, much to the little Dragon's embarrassment, her mother tapped her finger against her scales and said, "Not many things can hurt you. You're just like your father. Our man of steel!"

At that, daddy just _had_ to make a silly remark. "There is one lady that cane make this man of steel go soft…"

And then mommy and daddy did their gross adult thing and Draco looked away, groaning.

But at least they had talked out her problem of school without more trouble, and she was glad for that.

After dinner was done, Draco politely waited until her parents were done too -daddy had finished three plates!- and then she finally got to leave. She went straight to her room and closed the door behind her, scooping up the book where she had left it.

Now, mom thought that she was doing homework, so she had to be smart about this. So she opened the window for some fresh air, placed her holo-pad on her bed and then grabbed her blanket, wrapping them around her body to keep her warm. She liked the touch of cold air in her face, but only when the rest of her was warm.

Snuggled against the corner of her window like that, Draco quickly looked up where she had last stopped reading.

But right when she found where she had left off, her tail popped out from underneath the blanket, and she had to struggle to get it back in. Being a Dragon was definitely a good thing sometimes, as she was rarely ever pushed around by other kids, but there were so many downsides too. She needed special clothes, couldn't sleep on her back, needed to stay warm at all times and her growing horns would sometimes itch really bad, especially at night. When that happened, she needed to wash her head with special shampoo to make the itching go away.

She grunted, feeling annoyed with the stupid appendage. Dad said that it would get more flexible over time, and that he could even use it as a third arm, but _when_ was that going to happen? It was so stiff and dumb; why wasn't she cool like her father? _He_ never accidentally broke things, or hurt people when he didn't want to.

He had never hurt mom, not even by accident.

Draco shook her head and then concentrated on her book.

…what were those moving shapes, in the distance?

The young Dragon peered over the edge of her book and looked out her window again, from where she had a pretty good view on the rest of the city. Mom had chosen this spot to live in exactly for that reason.

Draco spotted shuttles, racing over the houses. Three…five…seven...too many for this late. What was going on-?

Bright lights flared in the distance, and she looked up in the air, spotting a spaceship floating in the far distance. She squinted with her eyes, trying to make out its shape. Was that a UNSC ship? What did they do on Mindoir?

Footsteps thundered up the stairs and Draco was vaguely aware of someone throwing her door open.

"Dracosa!" Shouted her mother.

Draco yelped in surprise and nearly dropped her book. "Mommy! I -I wasn't-"

Mom looked very upset and when she actually ran up to her and nearly pulled her away from the window, Draco realized that this wasn't just about her not doing her homework.

"Honey, we need to go!"

Draco didn't understand why and she was slow to understand the reason for her mother's worries. She didn't let go of the window-frame and her mother wasn't strong enough to pull her away. "What's wrong mom? Did I do something wrong?"

All of a sudden, more ships appeared above the city, as if they teleported there and then the world became all explosions and bright flashes and loud noises and Draco screamed, startled by the sudden attack on her senses. She let go of the window and her mother immediately pulled her close and picked her up in her soft, human arms, carrying her out of her room.

In the distance, alarms began to sound, but Draco had no idea why. What was going on, why was everything suddenly like _this_?

"Draco!" Her father yelled, _screamed_ , as he came rushing around the corner, carrying something large, grey and bulky. It took Draco a few moments to realize that her father was holding a _gun_.

"Daddy!" She yelped, now completely terrified by everything that was going on. "What's happening!"

"We're being attacked!" He replied, before handing a smaller gun to mom. "Stay close to me!"

The little Dragon looked up at her mother, her eyes starting to prickle with tears. "Is it…them?" She whispered, as if the mere mentioning of the monsters would doom them all. "Are they going to burn us too?"

"Nobody is going to hurt you," mommy whispered back, caressing Draco's cheeks. "Daddy will protect us…we won't let them hurt you."

Draco tightly closed her eyes and held on for dear life, clutching her mother's chest like it was the only protection she had against the monsters. In a way, it was.

People were screaming now. Loud, rapid explosions were thumping in the distance, growing closer every moment. Methodical rattling.

 _Gunfire,_ Draco realized. People were shooting.

There was nowhere for them to run, nowhere to be safe. The house didn't have a basement and daddy refused to take them to the attic. But outside would be worse and Draco was too terrified to set even a single step outside the safety of the house.

So they stayed inside. While mommy cradled her in her arms and tightly hugged her against her chest, daddy was frantically trying to contact people. His friends, his colleagues, his neighbours, anyone.

There were more screams, followed by an explosion so loud that Draco could feel it rattling her bones.

"Hush little wing…" whispered her mother. "Don't be afraid. Daddy will protect you. He fought bad people before, back when he and I hadn't even met. He won't let anything happen to you…and neither will I."

Draco whimpered, trying to calm herself down.

"But mommy needs you to be very brave now. If the bad people find us, you need to be as quiet as a mouse, so they won't you."

The thought of having to hide from the monsters filled her with dread. Her big, stupid tail wouldn't listen! It would give her away and then they would...they would…

Shouts came from outside the door. Not alien, but human. Liminal .Whichever, _people_.

"That's James!" Said her father. He then opened the door, taking aim with his gun. "Jimmie, quick!"

James Haggard was their neighbour, a single man with a young daughter named Sallie, a human girl. Draco had always liked Sallie, because she was nice.

But now, Sallie was bleeding, and mister James looked as terrified as Draco felt.

"It's not the Covenant," the man breathed as he and daddy immediately placed little Sallie on the table and inspected her wounds. Her left leg was bleeding heavily, as if she had been shot. "No plasma. Not the Templars, either."

 _Templars?_

"Then what are they?" Asked mom.

"Something new…they came out of nowhere, swarmed the city. One of them hit my baby girl, but I think we lost them."

Mister James was a friend of daddy's, and worked at the same factory. He had hard eyes that made him look mean and cold, but he was really a very nice man. To see him like this was…unreal.

"Where is the UNSC when you need them!" Yelled mister James.

"They'll be here," replied dad. "They'll be here…they look after their own."

Somehow, Draco didn't think that her dad meant that in a nice way.

They holed up in the house as the screams and explosions and rattling gunfire continued. Mom and mister James worked very hard to stop Sallie's bleeding, while dad kept a very close eye on the door and the windows, which he had tried to board up with the furniture.

That was when they all heard a child crying and yelling, right in front of their door, begging to be let in.

"Daddy!" said Draco. She didn't know who the kid was, but they couldn't just let it stay outside? "Why aren't you letting them in?"

Her father shot her a strange look, before slowly edging towards the door. The child didn't stay silent, and kept on yelling and begging for someone to help. Didn't it know that it was going to lure the monsters in if it did that?

Daddy moved towards the door, pulled the large chair away from it and slowly opened the door, all the while holding his large gun in one hand, as if thinking that a _child_ could be bad somehow…

The little Dragon caught a glimpse of a little Harpy held at gunpoint by four large, strange-clothed people. Then, in the split-second it took both her father as the people shooting at each other, she realized that they weren't people at all. Their mouths were filled with sharp, needle-like teeth, they had strange flaps of skin instead of a nose and they even had four eyes, all of them completely black!

That was when the gun going off right next to her head caused all thoughts to disappear, and Draco screamed, even as her father shouted and slammed the door shut, which didn't help at all against the monsters when they shot back right through the flimsy door.

Everything happened in a blur. Draco felt her mother drag her away from the door even as dad kept shooting at the aliens who kept on shooting back. People were screaming and shouting and cursing and Draco was screaming and crying and after what felt like _hours,_ the door simply exploded from its hinges.

Daddy was flung through the room by the explosion and mister James rushed the monsters with a large piece of metal, and Draco gasped when the weapon made contact with a sickening crunching noise, followed by a guttural scream that just sounded _wrong_.

Mister James was the next one to scream as the monsters standing outside shot him. Bullets ripped into his body, carved through large sections of flesh and seemed to cauterize the wounds the instant they were caught. Several bullets tore through his head and the back of his head popped open with blood and pieces of skull and brain and he fell and Draco screamed and mommy screamed-

The little Dragon was dragged backwards, away from the door, by her mother who told her to run and hide and never look back.

But Draco couldn't move. She was pinned to the ground, forced to watch the monsters enter their house and search around.

One of them shot mister James' corpse again.

Where was daddy? He would fight the monsters and protect his family, he had promised!

Mom grabbed Draco by her shoulders and dragged her with her, pulling her to the stairs. "We can't stay here," she whispered, keeping her hand across Draco's mouth to keep her from screaming. "We need to hide…"

Deep within herself, the little Dragon knew that her mother was right, and that if the aliens couldn't find them, they would be fine. Soldiers would come and arrest or shoot them and then everything would be alright again.

But even as the two of them fled upstairs, they were followed by guttural screams and shouts and soon, the monsters went after them

"The shed in the garden," her mommy whispered, sounding like she was out of breath. "When the coast is clear, you can hide there. Daddy always hated it when I said this…and for _very_ good reasons…but may the Lord watch over you, little wing."

Then she shoved Draco towards her bed, instructed her to hide.

"Mommy loves you very much!"

Heavy footsteps rushed up the stairs even as mom pulled out a large knife and placed herself against the door, trying to keep it closed.

But just like daddy hadn't been strong enough, mommy couldn't keep the monsters away and the door was broken down and kicked open and mommy was screaming and the aliens all charged inside and pinned her to the floor-

Draco was covering her mouth with both her hands as one of the monsters knelt down next to her mother and slowly brought a metal device to her head. Mommy was kicking and screaming and doing everything she could, but it wasn't enough, and the aliens were _laughing_ as they held her down, talking to each other in their vile tongue.

She couldn't stand it. She couldn't _stand_ it!

"Mommy!"

Gripped by her emotions, her fear and her boiling anger, Draco burst out from underneath her bed and leapt at the first alien. Everything went by in a blur, behind a red haze, as a thousand years of instinct took a hold of her thoughts and reflexes. She landed on the back of one of the monsters and, on instinct, started shredding its face with her long, sharp nails. She tore at its eyes, found them to be soft and easy targets, and started ripping them out, sticking her fingers deep within their sockets.

The monster screamed in agony -wailed like a little girl- and Draco felt a stab of feral pleasure as it did.

That was when two of them other monsters dragged her off of their comrade, shoved her to the ground and started beating her with armoured fists with horrible, sharp spikes on them. Now Draco was the one who was screaming in pain and fear and terror as the monsters shredded her clothes, were unable to carve through her scales and started mauling her other, more sensitive skin.

Draco screamed and bled and cried and _fought_ as hard as she could and the monsters were unable to hold her down on their own. She ripped her arm free and her bloodied fingers found the knife that her mother had tried to use to defend herself. She grabbed a hold of the handle and wildly swung at one of the monsters, slamming the blade into its throat.

The aliens screamed and shouted and one of them raised their gun, taking aim at her head and firing. Draco heard her mother scream, _saw_ her mother jump in front of her and get mercilessly gunned down because of it. Blood splattered across Draco's body.

More gunshots rang out and the little Dragon gasped when something small and incredibly hard slammed into her leg with enough force to blow it back. The rattling shots echoed through the room, but they weren't aimed at her anymore. The last of the aliens staggered backwards, reaching for its stomach, where thick bundles of guts were spilling it. The monster managed to catch them before he died.

Her father stood in the door-opening, holding his own gun. He was covered with wounds, some of them burns, some of them bloody. One of his wings was crippled and broken and there was a chunk of his tail missing.

Draco stared at her father as he looked around the room, spotted the prone, bleeding form of mom and let out a long, low moan. He clenched his fists and limped towards Draco. Upon seeing that she was still alive, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

"Oh baby girl…my sweet little wing…come on…we need to get out of here…"

Draco nodded, but she barely even understood what he was saying. She could only stare at the unmoving form of her mother, lying on the ground surrounded by the dead monsters. She felt numb. Deaf, blind, and numb. Except she wasn't blind, and she couldn't tear her eyes off of the scene.

That was, until her father gently cupped her cheeks and turned her head away from her dead mother. "Dracosa…I need you to listen to me-"

More shouts. Coming from downstairs, but quickly becoming louder and louder.

"Daddy is going…going to take care of mommy, alright? Draco…you're a strong girl. I need you to be strong, for just a little bit longer. Can you do that for daddy Can you be strong…for him?"

The little Dragon stared at her father, not sure what he meant. He was crying though. Tears stained his face, together with blood.

"The shed in the garden…you can hide there. They won't find you."

Footsteps, _again_. Coming up the stairs. They were coming for them.

Her father picked her up, carried her towards the window. "No choice, Dracosa. Be strong for both of us, okay? Out the window, through the garden, straight towards the shed. Your wings alright?"

They weren't. Her entire back had been laid open wherever possible and she couldn't move her right wing.

"It's a short drop. You can take it."

Monsters came rushing around the corner, through the door, and her father let go of her to turn around and face them.

"Daddy!" She shouted as she fell through the window and plummeted to the ground.

He didn't answer. He screamed, but not at her, after which the gunfire drowned out everything else.

~0~

* * *

 **17 hours later**

Lieutenant David Anderson took in the smell of another ravished human colony. Another world, violated and left bare in the wake of dogmatic alien scumbags. The air smelled like burnt meat, fire and death. There was a whiff of chemicals that even his helmet wasn't able to filter out, and it smelled _wrong_.

Of course, it was the type of wrong that only a Werewolf could pick up. Most of his men were human, and blessed with a subpar sense of smell.

At times like these, Anderson envied them.

The Marine stared at the destruction around him. The buildings had been mostly left intact, except for a select few, which looked more like bombed-out ruins than anything remotely resembling someone's home at this point.

It was quiet. The kind of quiet that could be expected of a dead colony.

But it hadn't been the Covenant, that much was certain. They would be standing on the surface of a molten chunk of rock if that had been the case. No, this was something else, and that could only mean one thing.

The Citadel races had fucked them over.

"Shit…" muttered Massani. "Goddamn bastards levelled this place."

"Stay focused," snapped Anderson. "Garcia, Clark, fan out. Search those buildings, but be ready to call in air-support when you encounter resistance."

They snapped off a crisp "sir!" and then moved out. There was no need for the two Marines to breach the houses; the doors had been kicked down already, like someone had gone through every single house to...what, execute the poor saps in their homes? Abduct them from their beds?

Anderson ordered the rest of his team to secure a perimeter around the block and then reviewed what he knew of this mission. About a day ago, alien contacts had appeared right above the planet's surface, after which they had rained down swarm after swarm of shuttles and single-ships. Most contact with the planet had been lost, except for a handful of militia forces who had managed to elude the invaders. They had managed to link up with each other and organize a hasty counterattack against the aliens in some cities, but the invading species had had all the time in the world to do their thing and then take off again.

"Sir," said Sergeant Massasni. "Delta squad reports the same. Lots of destruction, next to no bodies. The SOB's took our civvies and left."

With their civilians. This had never happened to the UNSC before. Sometimes, humans would turn on humans, or Liminals on humans or humans on Liminals, and it often resulted in a bloodbath, but the likes of this?

"Fifty-thousand people used to live here," said Anderson. "Now it's a ghost town."

They linked up with Garcia and Clark further into the city-block, passing through what had once been the main street. Traffic was bunched up and made for ample cover, as well as ambush opportunities, but even here, it was deserted.

"Who would do such a thing?" Said Clark. "Who would just swoop in and kidnap our people?"

"Turians?" Suggested Garcia.

"Nah man, the ravens helped us out on Jericho. This was something else."

"Shut your damn traps!" Ordered Massani. "And check your corners!"

There was no _use_. As Anderson waved the multiple squads through the city-block, it became obvious that there wasn't anybody left to threaten them. Humans, Liminals, it didn't matter. They were all gone, and the people who had stayed to fight had been mercilessly slaughtered, their bodies further degraded by petty, cruel aliens.

Anderson stepped over the dead body of a young Lamia. Her tail was sprawled across the pavement and symbols had been carved into her flesh. He hoped that she had died from the myriad of bullet-holes instead of this needlessly-cruel disfigurement.

There were more corpses laid out like that. A Harpy woman with her wings cut off, a Centaur impaled on pieces of rebar…it was disgusting.

That was when the team ran into a dead body that didn't belong here, and one of the Privates waved Anderson in. "Eltee? We got something here."

David approached the corpse of a fallen alien, which had been wedged into the ruined remains of a wall. There, he beheld the face of the UNSC's new enemy -and it was one hell of a face.

Four eyes, sharp, pin-like teeth and ugly flabs of skin that covered its forehead. It didn't even have a nose. What it did have however, was a military hardsuit with three wide slashes across the chest-region, likely the work of a Harpy or a Lizardman.

"That's a goddamn Batarian!" Spat Sergeant Massani.

Anderson knew what the Batarians were. Some sort of Citadel associate race. They had been competing with humanity for colonization rights within the Skyllian Verge, which had led to some awkward tensions. It wasn't the UNSC's fault that they needed so many colonies; the Covenant burned more than they could ever hope to replace.

But to attack one of their colonies and abduct all their people? This was an act of war that would be treated as a declaration of war. There would be hell to pay for this.

"Now we know who to shoot," he told his teams. "Continue your search, but stay alert. Ugly here might have friends."

They continued on for another hour. Anderson had forty soldiers under his command, but he was only one of the many officers tasked with combing through Harrowsford, one of the larger population centres on Mindoir. They had been tasked with two objectives, and those two only. Rescue any and all survivors and wipe out any and all alien presence in the city.

So far, they hadn't had any luck completing those objectives. This place was dead.

That was, until Anderson caught a whiff of more than just blood. It smelled like shit and piss and the type of blood one would only find within the deepest organs of someone's body.

He peered through a hedge into someone's garden and noticed a trail of blood that looked suspiciously hard to spot. The aliens had been very thorough in taking their dead with then, but every now and then they would stumble across a corpse too mangled for the Batarians to take with them and they hadn't even bothered to clear the blood.

The civvies had put up one hell of a fight.

So that begged the question…who had caused such a bloodbath?

Anderson gestured at Garcia, Massani and Clark to follow him, and they took up positions in front of the house that went with the garden. It was riddled with bullets and one portion had been completely collapsed, but it was still standing.

Garcia and Clark took up their position at both sides of the door-opening and then "breached", one after another, quickly filing into the building with their MA5 rifles raised.

"Hallway clear!"

"Kitchen clear!"

Anderson closely followed them, keeping his own assault rifle at the ready. He spotted the corpse of a human male, mangled by weapon fire. He also saw a patch of blood lying atop the kitchen table, together with the remains of a first aid kit.

"First floor clear!"

They made their way up the stairs, which was slick with gore. The walls were smeared with bloody handprints and the decapitated body of a Batarian lay at the top of the stairs.

Garcia kicked the body aside and Anderson quickly breached the first room of the first floor. When he stepped around the corner and scanned the interior of the room with his rifle at the ready, he felt his heart clench in response to what he saw.

The corpse of a Dragon male lay sprawled across the corpse of a human woman, his wife, most likely. They were surrounded by dead Batarians, and from the looks of it, they had put up one _hell_ of a fight. The woman had been killed with a single burst of fire to her abdomen, but her Dragon husband had taken a ridiculous amount of punishment before he went down. His wings were clipped, one of his horns had broken off, his tail was only loosely attached to his body and he had been riddled with so many bullets that every single one of his scales was dented, scratched or even completely blown-out.

The worst part? It was a _child's_ bedroom. A single book, old fashioned and torn, lay on the ground, together with a small handful of toys and clothes.

Anderson sighed and lowered his weapon. "First room clear," he shouted with a heavy heart, before approaching the body of the couple and tenderly closing their eyes.

That was when he noticed the broken window and the handprints surrounding its frame. Tiny handprints, which had left scratches on the wood.

David frowned and approached the window, taking care to properly scan his surroundings before exposing himself.

There, on the ground, he saw a few scattered droplets of blood, together with shards of glass.

The conclusion shot through his head before he could even process the implications. _The kid survived._

"Sergeant Massani." He called. "Take the boys, clear the rest of the house and then meet me in the garden."

"Sir!" Said the old veteran.

With that, Anderson leapt out of the window and rolled over his shoulder to dissipate his momentum.

What he saw, left him feeling both disgusted as grimly proud. A single Batarian corpse stuck out of the hedge, missing most of its lower head. Someone had gone and ripped out its lower jaw when the bastard had tried to struggle his way through the hedge. But who?

That question took about ten seconds before it answered itself. He found himself at the back of what had once been a beautiful garden, with a small shack at the back. The doors had been busted open, but the batarians had paid with their lives in doing so.

A single Dragon girl sat in the corner of the shack, mostly naked except for her torn pants, which were completely drenched with gore. She was curled up in a fetal position, with her tail wrapped around her frail body. In her hands she held a blood-stained kitchen knife.

Four dead Batarians lay on the ground in the shed. Their eyes had been brutally gauged out, their bellies had been slit open and their heads had been caved in. All four of them died in agony.

The little Dragon was softly rocketing back and forth, whispering to herself in a hushed tone. She was wounded, so badly that it was strange that she was still alive.

 _Like father like daughter,_ Anderson grimly thought. Given that Dragon species were among the most durable individuals any armed forces could produce, it really shouldn't have surprised him. But a kid like this? It was unheard of.

Anderson put down his gun. He removed his helmet. "It's alright," he told her. He showed her his own animal ears, drawing attention to their kinship. "It's over. You made it."

She didn't even register his presence. She kept whispering to herself, like a mantra.

David sighed. "Come on sweetheart…they're all dead."

"They're all dead…" she repeated him. Somehow, David knew that it wasn't a good thing.

Anderson didn't want to leave her like this, because the girl was very clearly wounded and delirious, but there was quicker way to get maimed than to press a cornered Dragon. "Come on girl…we're going to get you out here."

David looked at the little thing, taking note of the gashes at her back and the way her left wing was broken. When the UNSC got their things together there would be hell to pay.

~0~

* * *

 **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: WARFARE: SPECIES: DRAGONS**

 _Regarded as legendary beings, Dragons are held in high esteem as demi-gods and beings of extremely high reputation. Dragon species were among the first to be adopted within various military organizations after the Interspecies Exchange Bill was passed worldwide. Often regarded as the most physically-capable Liminal species, very few individuals can match a well-trained Dragon. However, their natural affinity for martial prowess and warfare is often regarded as a double-edged blade. All Dragon individuals possess and exhibit a natural desire to dominate and hunt, which makes them ill-suited for diplomatic activities._

* * *

 ** _AN:_** _there is just so much stuff that I want to add, so much scenes I want to write in the interactions between all these characters and factions, but there is also a lot of character building and introductions that I need to address. So if this chapters seems a bit bare-boned, that is most likely the reason why. I want to strike a good balance between regular updates and meaty chapters, but I don't really know if I found it yet. Leave me a review or a PM to let me what you think._


	6. 1,4: Daily life with war crimes

**Daily life with war crimes**

 **AN** _ **:**_ _after an overwhelming 30+ reviews on my last chapter, I couldn't wait to get started on this next chapter. I want to thank everybody for the sheer amount of love that this story has been getting! So, without further ado, I bring you chapter 6, in which the UNSC engages in tactful diplomacy to make peace with the Batarian slavers and-_

 _\- what was that? That's not what the name of this chapter hints at?_

 _~0~_

* * *

" _The Turian reinforcements at Jericho VII did more than just buy us some more minutes in the space battle. They showed us that not every alien wants us dead, that not every species out there wants to see our blood. We are not alone in our struggle and that counts for something._

 _Whether they realized it or not, the Turians gave us another weapon to fight the Covenant with. Several of their ships were lost with all hands above Jericho VII and, just like on Shanxi, had their Element Zero drive cores spill all over the colony. A significant amount of the combatants who were present during the fight were reportedly developing telekinetic powers._

 _The Hierarchy came to give us reinforcements, but ended up giving us Biotics instead."_

 _-Admiral Steven Hackett_

 **~0~**

* * *

 **Aboard UNSC Frigate** _ **Whiskey Bell**_

 **One day after the Raid of Mindoir**

Anderson smelled the medic before he actually saw her. A whiff of blood, mixed with chemicals and drugs. She had operated recently.

"Ma'am?" said David. The medic turned around when she heard someone call out for her and spotted him after a few moments

"Can I help you, mister…?"

"Lieutenant David Anderson," he introduced himself. "I was looking for the kid we found back on Mindoir. Can you tell me how she's doing?"

"Doctor Jefferson." The medic looked exhausted. She wore an apron that had once been clean and white, but which was now stained with dark splashes of red. Thankfully, they didn't smell that fresh. "You mean the Dragon-girl?"

"Yeah. Is she alright?"

"She'll live," the medic grimly said. "Little thing was barely clinging on to life when we started working on her. Blood-loss from the major lacerations on her back and stomach, as well as internal bleeding from blunt force trauma, did a real number on her."

David cursed under his breath. Shit like this was why he had signed up in the first place. "Did she give you any trouble?"

The woman gestured to two large Marines sitting outside the medical bay, their limbs covered with bloody cuts and gashes.

"I'll let that speak for itself. For a child who needed half her blood replaced, she resisted disproportionally. Screaming, flailing…it's a wonder she didn't hurt herself further."

"She lost both her parents that night," Anderson quietly commented. "

"She lost more than you know," replied the medic. "She'll need a full psychiatric rehabilitation before we can even _think_ of finding her a new place to stay. She keeps lashing out at people who try to touch her and she refused to speak…I fear Mindoir might have left her permanently damaged."

"Can I see her?" Asked Anderson.

The medic sized him up. "You're not a full human, are you?"

At that, Anderson felt a stab of annoyance. "What of it?"

"Well…it's just that she seems to bear a lot of hostility towards humans, men specifically. The psychiatrist said it might be her species' instinct, to regard all others as hostile."

Anderson scowled. "All others? What does that mean?"

The medic shook her head, as if she didn't want to put it any other way. "Dragons are attributed to the more primitive-minded species for a reason. They used to fight for dominance all the time, but the males sometimes took it too far and then the young got hurt."

"But the women didn't?"

"Female Dragons never do anything to hurt children, so their young are almost programmed to distrust males in times of stress. It's genetic. And her being just a _kid…_ she won't be trusting _anyone_ for a long time, if ever. Just…keep that in mind if you visit her. I couldn't stop you even if I wanted to, but I wouldn't expect too much."

David thanked the woman and then headed straight towards the medical bay, where other survivors of the raid were currently sleeping as well. The UNSC hadn't arrived in time to nail the Batarian bastards as they fled the system. What they had managed to do, however, was sweep the population centres for survivors and take them in for immediate medical attention.

There weren't many of them. Spread out among the high-grade medical facilities through the battlegroup of ten UNSC warships…maybe a couple of hundred had lived through the first few hours of treatment.

And the little Dragon-girl was one of them. Easily the youngest, too.

Anderson looked at the frail thing. She couldn't be much older than eight or nine; her horns were still little stubs and her wings, though badly broken, were still far too small for her to be any older than that.

He caught a glimpse of her eyes underneath her blonde hair; blue, dull and staring at nothing in particular. The tell-tale stare of someone who had been through hell and had not come back with their soul intact.

Seeing the girl like this…lying in her bed, curled up like a wounded animal and pumped full with sedatives…Anderson hated it. At times like these, it felt like the whole goddamn universe was out to get them. All of this, just so some alien dipshit could fill their wallet.

 _Take it in,_ he told himself. _You're responsible for nailing the bastards that did this. ._

He carefully approached the girl, taking calm and deliberate steps to show her that he wasn't going to hurt her.

"Hey kid," he slowly said. "Do you remember me? I found you back in Mindoir…I'm glad to see you made it."

She didn't respond. Of course she didn't; what was there to talk about? Everything she loved was gone now. Him being there probably reminded her of all the pain. He couldn't help it though; he _needed_ to make sure she made it.

"Look, I won't pretend to know what you're going through…" he started. The other patients were sleeping, so there wasn't anybody eavesdropping on them. It still felt odd though. "But in a way, I guess I can relate. Couple of years back, the aliens paid my world a little visit too. Only it was the Covenant. Different aliens," he clarified. "Still, the result was the same. Everything I knew died in flames. Including my family."

He had taken the news about as well as the little girl had. When he learnt what had happened to his wife and son…it had destroyed him.

Hell, he still hadn't pulled himself together yet. "I just wanted to say…for whatever it's worth…I'm sorry. I don't know what will happen to you now. There are millions just like you, kids who lost their parents in war. But they'll find you parents who want a kid, parents who _need_ a kid. You'll get to be happy again."

Unless she didn't want that. This war had thrown all normal ethics out the window and Anderson wouldn't lie about that. The chances for the kid to find a new life were next to zero. She wouldn't be finding happiness, not for a very long time.

But if she wouldn't find happiness, perhaps she could find _purpose_. "But if you want payback…get back at the monsters who took your mom and dad from you…you can sign up with the UNSC when you're the right age." He reached for his dog tags and yanked them from his neck, holding them out for the Dragon-girl to see. "We could sure use someone like you. When you're old enough…" He placed the tags by her head and took a step back. "And you still want to get even with the people who took your family, come find me. And I'll help you find your place."

The girl remained silent. Still, when Anderson took his leave and opened the door, he heard the soft scratching of her clawed hand reaching for his tags.

He smiled bitterly and left the medbay, feeling like this wouldn't be the last time he would be seeing the girl. Jefferson had been right; life would never be the same for her again. But with a little help, she could still find closure.

And perhaps, that would be worth it.

~0~

* * *

 **Attican Traverse.**

 **Unidentified pirate vessel**

 **2 days later**

 _+Kite's nest. The Batarians' home cluster. Nasty piece of work, heavily militarized. Indris system hasn't seen traffic in two weeks."_

And the other, perhaps even more valuable.

+ _If you are interested, we can set up an arrangement. Once your ship has been verified in the Harsa system, you will be escorted towards the staging area.+_

Saren Arterius eyed the information that his informant had sent him, allowing himself to savour that small moment of victory. He quickly glanced around to assure himself of the safety of his position and went to work.

Several days ago, the human colony that went by the name of Mindoir was attacked by a Batarian fleet commanded by one Captain Gor'vak. Thousands had been taken. The raid had been more akin to a full military assault and it had been pulled off perfectly.

But every assault required a plan, and every plan needed preparations. Such preparations left trails, which one could follow if one was in possession of enough assets.

And as a Spectre, Saren was in possession of a lot of assets.

Now, the various trails all ran into the Terminus Systems. Batarian officials had contacted the Blood Pack for enforcement, but it had not been long enough yet. There wasn't enough to trace.

"Soon, General," muttered the Turian Specre. "Soon, I will undo yet another of your schemes…"

~0~

 **08:04 Hours, December 23** **th** **, 2538 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **FLEETCOM Sector 7/"Attican Traverse"**

Rear Admiral Steven Hackett had only been in charge of keeping FLEETCOM Sector 7 secure from alien vessels for three years now, but those three years had been relatively peaceful. There had never been any signs of trouble. The Attican Traverse, far away from the fronts of the Inner Colonies, looked like a safe haven for the UNSC to try to recover from their many, _many_ losses over the past few years.

They had been so wrong.

" _What the hell happened on Mindoir, Hackett?"_ Said Fleet Admiral Lord Hood. the _de facto_ leader of the UNSC. He sounded pissed and for good reason.

Hackett crossed his wrists behind his back and raised his head. "They caught us off-guard, sir. It's not an in-system Slipspace jump, but they still ran FTL until they came into orbit and swarmed the colony with transports. They knew what they were doing, hitting our barracks and defensive installations with overwhelming force during the first few minutes."

" _Are you saying that the aliens pulled a blitzkrieg on us?"_ Lord Hood's exasperation was audible, and Hackett wished he had better news to deliver.

But it didn't even end there. "Effectively sir. Orbital assets were taken out and the aliens, Batarian pirates, hit our major population centres with superior numbers."

" _The Turians had superior numbers as well, Steven. The Covenant always brings superior numbers to bear. What made the Batarians different?"_

In response, Hackett sent the Fleet Admiral several schematics. "The Batarians were prepared for a tough fight, sir. They weren't geared for tactical fighting; they were prepared to straight-up _hurt_ people. Our scientists were baffled by their equipment; neural leashes, shock darts, electrified webs…everything a slaver needs for a good grab."

" _A grab, Steven?"_

Lord Hood was a well-composed man, but at the mention of the alien's ultimate objective, there was no mistaking the anger and venom that laced his tone.

Hackett felt that, and _more_. "Yes sir. The various bodies and hardware we found scattered across Mindoir suggests that they were slavers. Cages, leashes, everything was aimed at taking even the toughest civilians alive."

The Fleet Admiral was silent for a good ten seconds. " _How many people did they take?"_

Hackett lowered his head and sighed. "We haven't finished counting, but we estimate at least six-thousand dead and seven-thousand taken."

" _Do we know where they took our people? Who was behind the attack?"_

"We don't know anything yet sir…" Saying those words was painful. "But rest assured sir, we _will_ find out. The Office of Naval Intelligence has already sent out various Corvettes into the Attican Traverse and our fleets have started searching every nearby system with probes."

Lord Hood nodded. _"Admiral Hackett, you are hereby granted permission to use whatever resources you need to find and return our people. The UNSC will provide you with whatever you need to achieve this."_

Hackett felt a stab of pride at that declaration, but it was quickly replaced by remorse. Had he been sharper, allocated more resources to Mindoir, then perhaps this tragedy could have been prevented. "Of course sir. Whatever it takes."

Hood snapped off a salute, which Hackett returned. He was shouting orders to his crew before the link was even terminated, getting the _Hollander_ underway. This was a crime against his people that would not be allowed to stand and everybody knew it. After having spent fifteen years watching world after world burn at the hands of the Covenant, nobody had expected something as vile and personal as a slave raid on one of their colonies.

The colonies in the Attican Traverse had given them hope and the Batarians had taken that away again. That alone was enough to anger any civilization. But the UNSC, already enduring millions of casualties every week? Nobody would care where the Batarians were hiding. Nobody would care who was protecting them, or how the Citadel would respond. The UNSC would be coming for them now and they would stop at nothing to get their people back.

~0~

* * *

 **Citadel Presidium**

 **Council meeting room**

 **4 days after the Raid of Mindoir**

Councillor Sparatus sat down in his chair, worrying about the subject of this hastily-scheduled meeting. Valern had contacted Tevos and him mere hours ago, declaring the need for an emergency meeting. Lacking anything better to do, Sparatus had been quick to reschedule his appointments and make his way towards this small little room that did not exist.

Councillors Tevos and Valern were sitting at the triangle-shaped table as well, their faces grim.

"I have the time," Tevos quietly said, tapping away at her omni-tool. "The meeting will officially start in three…two…one. Valern, you have the opening word."

The Salarian nodded. "Four days ago, counting in Citadel-hours, the Human-Liminal colony called "Mindoir" was attacked by a Batarian raider fleet."

Sparatus was aghast. The very first thought that shot through his mind was that of outrage; which honourless, barefaced bastard would get it in their minds to assault a civilian-populated world of a species that was trying to survive a war against a superior, genocidal enemy? Who would _dare_ to strike a world specifically designed to serve as a haven away from the war that had already consumed a hundred worlds?

The second thought that crossed the Turian Councillor's mind was that of horror; how would a desperate, militarized and paranoid organization like the UNSC respond to something as cruel and vicious as a slave raid on one of the worlds they had specifically claimed as a way to _escape_ their dreadful war?

There would be war. Undoubtedly, the UNSC would declare war on the Batarians and it would drag the Citadel Council with them.

They could not _afford_ such a war, spirits be cursed! "Have they lost their _minds_?" Exclaimed Sparatus. "Another slaver raid, on a _human_ colony, nonetheless?"

"Peace, Sparatus," Tevos calmly said. "We do not know if the Hegemony supported this assault. They always deny responsibility, do they not?"

"Bah! The Hegemony should have abolished slavery centuries ago! This is the result of an entire government of failures!"

"Sparatus, please remain calm," said Valern. "We have more pressing concerns. The humans will demand retribution for this. If there is one thing we learned from their doctrine in the past decade, it is that they force their foes to fight for every centimetre they can muster. A slave raid on their colony will not go unpunished."

"I know that," said Sparatus. "But if we allow the UNSC to wage war on the Batarians, it _will_ escalate"

Tevos frowned. She must have heard something in his voice that she did not like. "What do you mean by that?"

Wordlessly, Sparatus sent her a series of images. He waved with his omni-tool and showed her image of the titanic vessel some of his "disobedient" officers had taken during an "unauthorized" attempt to interfere with a conflict with the Covenant. Small dots, most likely fighters, surrounded the vessel and simply seeing the warship again made the Turian Councillor feel both vague pride as inadequacy.

"This vessel is three kilometres long," said Sparatus.

"By the Goddess…" muttered Tevos. She took a few long moments to observe the titanic warship, her lack of military experience preventing her from fully understanding the situation.

"In close quarters, this monster would rip the _Destiny Ascension_ apart."

She seemed to recover and glanced at Sparatus. "How do you know this?"

"Military intelligence," Sparatus immediately retorted. He felt his two colleagues glare at him and he quickly moved on. "Two of these were present at one world, meaning that they are not used as flagships. If we follow the UNSC's tendency to classify ships their ships an entire magnitude of size above that of the Citadel fleets and add to that immense destruction that their spacebattles bring with them, we can expect an overwhelming strike on the Batarians."

"We cannot let that happen," said Tevos. "We have no reason to assume that the Batarians are the official culprit."

Sparatus growled in frustration. "Tevos, open your eyes! The Hegemony has been pulling raids like this for _centuries_!"

"And they have denied it all the way!" Replied Tevos. "Sparatus, my heart goes to all of humanity, but we cannot afford a war of this magnitude! Especially not when the UNSC does not depend on the Mass Relay network for their FTL!"

"What do you suggest we _do?_ Simply let this _pass_?"

Valern cleared his throat. "The humans have asked for a petition; their Ambassadors will be meeting this Council in one days from now. The Batarian Ambassador has been invited as well."

Nodding, Tevos said, "And we shall continue this discussion there. This meeting is adjourned."

The three of them gathered their things and moved to leave the office, but Sparatus stopped Tevos by the door. "The UNSC will be making work of this, regardless of our decision. Theirs is a situation too dire for them to let our politics stop them."

Tevos straightened her back and looked him in his eyes. "Then I hope the UNSC is prepared to pay the price for their actions," she replied.

And with that, the Asari Councillor left the room.

~0~

* * *

 **08:04 Hours, December 27** **th** **, 2538 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Council Chambers**

Donnel Udina felt outraged. Four days since the attack on Mindoir it had taken the Council to notice! Four days! The Batarians could have taken the captured slaves all the way across the galaxy and the UNSC would have no way to reach them!

Oh, it aggravated him just thinking about it! At least they were about to head out now…

The door behind him opened and Udina turned around, half-expecting some C-Sec officer to come barging in. Much to his delight, it was emissary Akuma, his lovely colleague. She was dressed in an elegant yet simple dress, which had been custom-tailored to make room for her wings and tail.

A gift, from an Asari envoy.

Donnel stood and the Elder Devil flashed him a warm smile, but he saw it fade away too fast and knew that she was deeply unhappy.

"Come, Donnel," she spoke to him with her beautiful voice. "It is time."

The human nodded and grabbed his specially-designed omni-tool. "Of course. I have all the data right here. Did you speak with the UNSC about their wishes?"

"I did. Admiral Hackett was quite clear."

As the two of them made their way towards the Citadel Tower, where their meeting would be taking place, Akuma started instructing Donnel in the purposes, specifics and goals of their meeting.

"The UNSC is already preparing a counter-attack," the Elder Devil said while Udina hailed a skycar. "The Office of Naval Intelligence has been searching for leads for days. They received an anonymous tip, giving coordinates to a star system where regular slave auctions take place, but they are unable to send in a fleet unless it can be verified."

"A tip?" Asked Udina. "How can we be sure of its legitimacy?"

"That is exactly why ONI is doing all they can to trace it. When their own conclusions overlap with this tip, we shall send in a fleet to free our people."

"And then?" Said Udina.

The Elder Devil smiled. "And then we will make sure that our enemy will never be able to raid a world again."

Udina could appreciate that. "Nice."

"Hmm…still, I do hope that we will not be too late."

That was to be expected. The USNC might have a large fleet, but they were only just trying to upgrade their ships with Element Zero. Traversing that part of the galaxy would take a ludicrously-long time.

Still, it wasn't Udina's place to worry about this. While he would be shooting down his opponents with words, it would be the army and their Special Forces doing the actual shooting.

Eventually they reached the Citadel Tower, he epicenter of the Citadel. The stairs leading up to the audience chamber were rather devoid of visitors, which Udina liked to take as sign of how serious the Council took their request.

The three Councilors were already waiting for them, standing tall in the cavernous Council Chambers.

Akuma bowed to the three mightiest individuals in Council Space. "Greetings, esteemed members of the Citadel Council," she said with her mesmerizing voice.

Tevos of the Asari republics returned her greeting. "And good greetings to you, ambassadors Akuma Ser'aphim and Donnel Udina. I wish we could meet under more favorable circumstances."

"Indeed. I come to you with distressing news. Four days ago, our colony of Mindoir in the Attican Traverse, was attacked by Batarian slavers. Their sizeable fleet descended upon our world with the aid of an entire army, strong enough to best our militia. Over the course of twenty-four hours, they butchered six thousand innocent humans and liminals, before taking another seven thousand captives." Akuma paused, allowing the Council to process her words. "They desecrated our dead. If you so wish, I can show you the images our military captured."

The Asari Councilor shook her head. "We do not require evidence as of now, ambassador. Perhaps when we have a culprit to point at and justice to serve, they can be brought in as additional evidence."

Udina's sixth sense for political shitstorms activated. "I should add to this, members of the Council, that during the First-Contact Skirmish, the Turian Hierarchy was unable to suppress our militia and armed civilians before our soldiers arrived. To say that the Batarian slavers were able to, is analogous to saying that said slavers had sufficient finances and military hardware backing them up, yet that is precisely what happened."

At that, the Councilors started bickering amongst themselves.

Political shitstorm achieved.

The Turian Councilor, Sparatus frowned and said, "Are you insinuating that the Hegemony itself sponsored the assault in Mindoir, Ambassador?"

"My colleague is suggesting that the slavers might have been financed from an organization which stayed away from the attack itself," clarified Akuma. "As the various pirate attacks in the Attican Traverse have always been fought off without incident."

Tevos looked troubled, but when she next spoke, she did so clearly and without any emotion. "What is it that the UNSC wants to request from us?"

"We ask only for intelligence support," clarified Akuma. "We are prepared to strike back at the Batarian slavers to get our people back, but we are not interested in war. If you can supply us with case files of additional slave raids, or previously-known established slave routes outside of Citadel Space, we will be content."

The Councillors took a few moments to discuss amongst themselves. Udina sensed frustration and anger within Sparatus and annoyance within Tevos.

"The Council agrees to offer you any information relevant to slave raids," Tevos slowly said, "However, we would advise against the UNSC taking military action against the illegal pirate and slaver presence in the Attican Traverse. The region is dangerous and your UNSC might, as your people are fond of saying, bite off more than you can chew."

"In addition, we forbid the UNSC from accusing of collaborations or otherwise engaging in aggressive negotiations with the Batarian Hegemony," said the Salarian Councilor, Valern.

The Turian Councilor cleared his throat and said, "I agree. The Council is responsible for all lives, not just those of the humans and Liminals. As such, any and all assaults of the UNSC against pirate or slaver presence in the Attican Traverse will be of its own accord. Furthermore, the Council will not be providing military assets to this operation."

Tevos and Valern shot him an odd look and Udina was about to give his retort when Sparatus clarified. "The United Nations Space Command will have to deal with this incident in their own way."

The Asari reached for her forehead with her hand and the Salarian shook his head, but Akuma was delighted.

"Splendid," she said with a genuine smile. Udina could have sworn he saw her tail wiggle with joy, despite her advanced age. I shall inform my superiors of this outcome. I thank you for your insight, Councilors. We shall, in Councilor Sparatus' wise words, deal with this incident in our own way."

The Councilors did not protest. Instead, Valern and Tevos turned to glare at Sparatus, who gave the slightest of nods to Donnel.

When Udina turned his back on the Council and looked at his companion, he found himself wondering if she had done anything to…advance this cause beyond normal progression.

"Skillfully done, Donnel," the Elder Devil suddenly said, as she called for another skycar.

Udina's mouth beat his brain to it. Unfortunately, without brain-input, it became political gibberish. "Saywhatnow?"

"You are a natural political talent. I have no doubt that the Batarian Ambassador will be scheduled for a meeting next. Oh, how I long to tear Lath Vala's vile grin from his face…" she flashed a mischievous smirk and then placed a hand in front of her mouth in mock shame. "Oh, I _do_ beg your pardon. How unprofessional of me."

Udina chuckled and made a mental note to up his daily push-up count by five.

~0~

* * *

 **Kite's nest**

 **Vular system**

 **Aboard Batarian Frigate** _ **Gods of Abuse**_

 **32 days later**

It was a beautiful day for Garv'ha Chaktar. As the Captain of the guard, as well as Frigate-Captain responsible for directing the first battlegroup around Erszbat, his responsibilities had netted him a good profit of the past week's slave auction. Those filthy two-eyed freaks, in all their ridiculous shapes and forms, were selling like crazy! They sold more than a hundred of them every day, earning them millions upon millions of credits!

It was a shame that Garv'ha couldn't pick one himself. He didn't want to spent a hundred thousand credits on an alien, no matter how appealing they looked, or how much their misery aroused him. He had better things to spent his creds on.

Things like military gear! The Vular system had become a _very_ attractive target for privateers and pirates hoping to snatch themselves a few of these beastly "Liminals" that the underground networks had been spreading teasing information about. But most of the pirate scum wasn't wealthy enough to lay down a hundred thousand credits for a slave. No, _they_ would much rather rob the Hegemony of their well-earned products!

And so the pleasurable task of laying waste to them was now Garv'ha's to undertake. He tasked the crew of the _Gods of Abuse_ to man their stations and then went on what would be his fourth patrol this day. Sometimes, some of the hired Blood Pack goons would get a little bit too greedy and get too close to Erszbat without permission. Those became target practice for his very eager crew.

However, after an hour of sublight patrolling, his navigational officer cried out in surprise. "Captain Chaktar! Our scans indicate unidentified ships, at the edge of the system! I am sending the coordinates to your map now."

Garv'ha felt a hint of anticipation and licked his lips, leaning in close to observe his map. "What am I looking at?" He asked. "New guests?"

"Their signatures are like nothing we have ever seen before…they don't even match the database! They're holding position at their coordinates, counting six ships. Err…seven. Eight. Correction, ten ships. I correct again, twelve. Correction, fifteen-"

"Oh, quiet, you fucking imbecile!" Shouted the Captain.

"Sixteen-"

"Are you playing with me, Gohvr?"

"Seventeen-"

"Do you think you are funny? The Relay team didn't even report any arrivals! There _can't_ be ships there! Will you _stop fucking counting!"_

The officer seemed to shrink under his glare, but he resumed pointing at his map. "Captain, I am counting seventeen enemy ships on those exact same coordinates!"

Wordlessly, Captain Garv'ha drew his pistol and shot the officer. A sprayer of red blood erupted from the back of his head and he slumped against his console.

"Who wants a promotion?" Shouted Garv'ha. "His station is now free!"

Two of his men were eager to get theirs and they settled their simultaneous claim with violence. Once the new officer sat at his seat, wiping off the blood of his predecessor, the Captain could continue. "Now, would you just tell me what these signatures are?"

"Of course boss," said the new officer. "Obviously, these are ghost signatures. We are being jammed most deviously-"

"Captain Garv'ha," Said the soldier at communications. "The second battlegroup has reported enemy ships at the same position as the ghost signatures! They are moving to intercept now!"

Garv'ha _glared_ at his new officer, who shrugged. "Guess that guy was right, ey boss?"

The Captain rolled with his eyes. These alien ships that seemed to appear out of nowhere "Just…everybody get ready for another slugfest. Man the ships, man your stations."

~0~

* * *

 **07:44 Hours, January 28** **th** **, 2539 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **UNSC Frigate** _ **Salty Spitoon**_ **in Fleet Formation Green Leaf**

Commander Jacob Keyes stood on the bridge of the _Salty Spitoon, w_ atched the holographic display at his post. Four warships of various tonnages were sporadically moving across the surface of the colony, while two other battlegroups were patrolling the system.

He was looking at the immediate surroundings of the Batarian colony. Erszbat, where thousands of their people had been stashed away on the surface more than a month ago. The Spectre's intel, the Citadel's case files and ONI's research all checked out. This was the place they were going to raze down to the ground.

It had taken Admiral Hackett a while to get all the ships he needed, but he hadn't skimmed on the little details. Their battlegroup was made up out of more than twenty ships, including one massive carrier and a refitted Halcyon-Class Cruiser. It looked like the enemy only had two fleets in the system to oppose them, one of which was heading directly towards them.

Eleven Batarian warships, including one that the Office of Naval Intelligence had reported leaving Mindoir via the Relay.

"Sir," said Lieutenant Jones. "We got an incoming fleet-wide transmission on Alpha priority channel. Captain Richards is getting ready to kick some ass."

Keyes rolled his eyes at the junior officer's rather rough language. Everybody had their own coping mechanisms. "Put it on screen."

"Sir."

Moments later, Captain Richard's voice boomed through the speakers.

" _Alright boys and girls, Batarian officials refuse to acknowledge our requests. Fact is, they threatened to open fire if we do not immediate vacate their system. We are going to comply with that request, as soon as we rescued our people from their colony. Your targets have been marked, break and engage at my orders."_

"Commander," said Ensign Free _._ "We've received encrypted firing solutions."

"Put them on screen, Ensign."

Captain Richards, hero of Shanxi, had marked one of the smaller Batarian vessels for the _Spitoon._ An angular, roughly triangle-shaped ship a third the size of the _Spitoon._ A Frigate,

Keyes knew better than to underestimate those things. Their anti-fighter screens were impressive and their speed was nothing to sneeze at either. It could and would run circles around the _Spitoon_ when given the chance, sniping it from beyond its range.

Nailing it with the MAC would be difficult. The power systems of the Paris-Class Frigates allowed them to launch slugs at far greater speeds than when the MAC was first introduced, but the 90 kilometers per second would only be useful when their enemy was actually within range.

The enemy battlegroup closed in fast. Most of them were Frigates, though there were also two Cruisers spearheading the assault. The Destroyers would have to take care of those; it was Keyes' job to make sure those Frigates wouldn't form the wolf-pack strategy that they had read about.

"Gunnery officer?" Commander Keyes turned to Lieutenant Pattillo.

"MAC gun is hot boss," said the bearded officer. "Ready to fire on your signal."

The Batarian battlegroup broke up. The Cruisers took up firing positions and the Frigates scattered to form groups.

" _All ships, break and engage your targets. Show them our teeth."_

"Bring us about to heading five zero seven," Keyes immediately said. "Lieutenant Jones, push our reactors to one-hundred ten percent."

"Aye sir!"

The starboard view showed the Batarian ships opening fire. A series of small but deadly slugs filled the screen and moments later, the first of the mass accelerator slugs slammed into the _Spitoon's_ hull.

"We're hit!" Yelled Second Lieutenant Ramsey. "Oh, dicks, our hull's holding."

Keyes scowled. "Arm front Archer missile pods."

"Aye sir, Archers hot!"

The other warships in the UNSC battlegroup were moving to engage their own targets. The Halcyon took the front, taking the brunt of the Batarian attack with her superior armor plating.

Destroyers and Frigates opened fire, alien ships moved to take evasive maneuvers and soon, the battlegroups were exchanging shots in hundreds lines of fire.

The _Spitoon_ moved to intercept the enemy Frigate, but it sped away and stayed outside of their effective range.

"Trace that target Ramsey. Pattillo, set Archer pods A through C to remote detonation and set their course for mark two nine two."

The Lieutenant frowned, verified the coordinates and shrugged. "Missiles away sir. Remote detonation set."

Dozens of trails of exhaust shot from the _Spitoon's_ front as the Archers towards their respective positions.

Then, Keyes started observing. As the _Spitoon_ raced across space to throw off the aliens' aim, their target was trying to encircle them. It moved in rather predictable patterns, though still much too fast to target.

"Welcome to the _Salty Spitoon,"_ Pattillo said as their Frigate took fire. "How tough are you?"

Keyes looked at his officer, wondering what the hell he was on about.

"How tough are we?" Said Ramsey. "This morning, I kicked Batarians in their dick."

"And?" Said Jones.

"And I did it _without_ a UNSC battlegroup."

Commander Keyes sighed. "Arm those Archers and keep our MAC charged."

The alien vessel reached the position it had first vacated, several thousand kilometres away from the Archers.

His timing had to be perfect. On-screen, tiny red dots signified the powered-down missiles and the rapidly-approaching alien vessel.

He wished that they had been outfitted with an AI.

"On my mark," he said. "Wait for it…wait for it…detonate the Archers!"

A full quarter of the _Spitoon's_ missile complement detonated right in front of the Batarian Frigate's path. Forty explosives detonated in a tightly-packed field, catching the alien Frigate in their midst. Blue shimmering shields were visible for a split-second before the vessel suddenly lurched to a halt.

Keyes, not one to question opportunities when they presented themselves, immediately gave the order for the _Spitoon_ to fire its MAC.

A rumble shot through the Heavy Frigate as it fired its Magnetic Accelerator Cannon, propelling a six-hundred tons of superdense ferric tungsten in one shot.

The power to crush any Citadel ship with one hit slammed into the tiny Frigate, which was completely obliterated on impact.

"Eat that, four-eyed bitch," Jones quietly said under his breath. "Enemy destroyed, Commander!"

Keyes wondered why the little Frigate had stopped. If it could surge around the battlefield at such speeds, any collision would prove disastrous. Was that why it had to slow down? To avoid the debris left by the Archers?

He quickly wrote down some scribbles on his datapad and then turned to his tac computer, which was having trouble tracing everything that was going on. Missile fire and mass accelerator rounds strobed in the darkness and single ships fired, ducked and weaved through the chaos

For once, the UNSC outnumbered and outgunned their opponents. The eleven Batarian warships were no match for the UNSC battlegroup. Their erratic dodging and manoeuvring made it hard for them to be targeted, but not impossible. The AI's aboard the _Impending Kickass,_ the Carrier, as well as the one aboard the _Bullet Sponge_ , the Halcyon, easily tracked and compensated for the movements of the enemy.

A nuke went off, consuming two enemy Frigates at once. Interceptors a third the size of the enemy Frigates carved through shields and hull with their massive autocannons and the Destroyers made short work of the enemy Cruisers, annihilating them with a salvo of MAC slugs.

Commander Keyes only had time to recharge his MAC and fire it two more times before the battle was over. The remains of eleven Batarian warships and three UNSC Frigates -the only casualties they had taken- silently drifted through the cold vacuum of space.

"Ship status?" Asked Keyes.

"Deck's 2 through 7 how hull breach, sir," Said Pattillo. "Internal bulkheads are closed, no personnel caught in the open…minor system damage."

The Commander nodded. They were good to go.

"Sir, incoming transmission from Captain Richards!" Jones then called. "We are to rendezvous at the planet and dispatch our troop transports at the designated target before the second battlegroup engages us. Neat."

"Well then," replied Keyes. "Best get us there best speed. Set course for Erszbat. We've got civilians to rescue."

~0~

* * *

 **Erszbat**

 **Fortified auction city Torzakora**

Captain Gor'vak stood with his arms crossed over his chest, watching two of his subordinates bring the little human cub out from his cage. They dragged him forth by the shaggy fur on his head, which Gor'vak knew hurt the primitives a great deal.

The cub didn't even protest them. The primitive alien had been broken a full week ago. The neural jack did wondrous work; whatever they wanted to shove into the cub's mind, the jack fully interpreted and made it work!

"Put him right there," he said. Two other soldiers then dragged another alien cub into the city centre, where a large crowd had formed. "Brothers of mine," the Captain yelled, his voice magnified by an amplifier in his helmet. "The doctor's upgrades have proven worth every single credit they costed! With his new neural jack technology, we can not only hardcode specific species with specific commands from a central server, we can fully program what we want them to think and do as well!"

The eagerly watched, waiting for a demonstration of this miracle system. He could see it in their eyes, on their faces. Krogan and Vorcha and dozens of Batarians who were tired of the cheap jacks that were only good for pain-induced compliance. They wanted something better and Gor'vak would deliver.

He gestured at the human cub. "Give him a gun."

One of his under-officers threw a handgun at the child's feet and then instructed it to pick it up.

The child didn't even blink. Conditioned to obey orders like it was, it bent through his knees and reached for the gun.

Now, Gor'vak had to be very specific with his wording. He didn't want to sound like a smartass, as there were many members of the Blood Pack present, but he had to show that he knew his business as well. "This sophisticated jack software is capable of… _tweaking_ …specific targets in the slave's brain. Not just pain, oh no. We can induce anxiety, paranoia, fear…and pleasure. We take from them the very _concept_ of freedom and destroy it!"

The crowd was getting unruly now. They wanted to _see_ what he was offering them!

"But wait," said the Captain. "There's more! In theory, by carefully administrating neurochemical substances, we can alter the slave's perception of memory! Or, in other words, _control what they remember!_ Now this s is still a concept and we need additional funding to fully work it out. But first, observe!"

Then, he pointed at the female cub and said, "Shoot her."

He wasn't even finished or the pistol discharged. The grain-sized projectile tore through the female cub's head and he slumped to the ground.

Then, the crowd started cheering. They had seen what he promised them and they wanted more. They always wanted more.

"This one comes from a batch that has been conditioned to kill their own," said Gor'vak. "If we add physical training, we can make effective suicide troopers from these ones. It means less casualties for us and more casualties for the enemy. They do not want to shoot their own! They hesitate! And then they pay for that. Then, there is the potential for fighting rings…"

The Captain went on to rile the crowd up with promises of little soldiers, fighters that would charge straight at Krogan for amusing fights and other, more alluring ideas. Things were good. Warlords were promising to fund their research, crime leaders wanted to place orders for their own little suicide runners and the large amount of slave-owners present all had their own uses for a human or Liminal slave.

And that was when Gor'vak was contacted by Communication Outpost 3, which patched him through to his partner, Captain Garv'ha Chaktar. "What is it?" He demanded. "I am busy!"

" _It's the human fleet! They've found us!"_

Gor'vak rolled with his two sets of eyes. "Took them long enough. Go on, board their warships. They will make for fine prices on the market."

" _Board them? They've just blasted one of our Cruisers into the Void with one shot! Gor'vak, you dog, they have Dreadnaughts! One is twenty times the size of our Frigates and our guns are hardly making a dent. Mass accelerators aren't enough! Wait, what is that? Scans read some strange radiatio-"_

The radio suddenly cut off.

"Garv? Are you there?" No interference or anything like that.

Garv'ha Chaktar was gone.

For a moment, Gor'vak felt a strange sensation of…what, emptiness? Loss? It puzzled him. Garv'ha had been much more than just his business partner. He had raided his first colony together with him.

But Gor'vak knew what to do now. He turned to face his audience; hundreds upon hundreds of battle-hardened warriors. "Comrades! This world is about to come under attack! Get word out to the other auction cities and dig in! Today, we prove the disgusting UNSC that there is nothing they can do to stop our work!"

~0~

* * *

 **09:23 Hours, January 28** **th** **, 2539 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **In orbit over Erszbat**

Once she had entered her Human Entry Vehicle, Lieutenant Lilim Shepard hastily secured her harness, ran the obligatory system check, removed a series of safeties and armed her ejection tube. A practiced habit, performed dozens of times since she had first signed up with the ODST's.

The digital screen in front of her swiftly counted down. When it reached zero, the pod dropped.

Shepard gritted her teeth as the pod accelerated out of the ejection tube and fell towards the Batarian-controlled world below. Her stomach lurched, her heartrate spiked and her lips curled upwards in a sly smile.

She always took such pleasure in drops such as this one.

During the first very first combat-drop, she had been scared to death of what she would do once the HEV actually hit the surface. The disorientation, the frantic search for cover and squadmates, it had all painted a horrifying picture in her mind.

And then she had actually witnessed what it was that ODST's did when they dropped. She had understood why, in practice, there were more casualties from system failures than there were during the first hour after the drop.

It was because ODST's shredded infantry after landing. They caught the enemy completely unaware, destroyed their cohesion and the begun their bloody work. Helljumpers dealt in death and destruction.

So now, as her HEV shuddered upon hitting the outer layer from the colony's atmosphere, Lilim felt her anticipation for the fight exceed her nervous thoughts about rupturing pods and failing ceramic skins. Finally, after traveling for weeks at an end, she could make the Batarians understand why attacking the very people she was sworn to defend was an exceedingly-bad idea.

A tremor ran through her pod and the internal temperature increased. Beads of sweat formed on her face and her tail was starting to itch.

Then, the pod flipped end over end.

" _Incoming-!"_ The commanding officer of the 105th Shock Troop Division, Captain Antonio Silva, shouted.

Lilim didn't understand the last half however, and was about to ask for a repeat when several projectiles tore through her HEV. They ripped through the outer ceramic skin and revealed the outer alloy crash cage that made up the sturdy part of the pod.

And then several rounds penetrated _that_ too.

The HEV started spinning out of control. Knowing that there would be no chance for a proper landing like this, Lilim made the split-second decision of avoiding the death that every Jumper feared. She manually unleashed the hatch to her pod, which exploded outwards with incredible force.

Cold air rush inside of the pod and ripped at her suit.

Rumor had it that one Johnson had once murdered an entire Covenant squad with a weaponized door. Lilim would have to find another day to match that achievement. She then her harness, strapped her SMG's to her thighs and abandoned the doomed HEV.

While all Devil species were more than capable of flight, it was the Elder race that had truly mastered the art of aerial combat. Rivalled only by Wyverns and Harpies with their metal-rending claws and innate aggression, they were indominable in the air.

Lilim felt the wind tear at her powerful wings, but the surgery after Jericho VII had taken beautifully. They were sturdy enough to withstand the forces exerted on them and after a few moments of tumbling around in the air, she was able to force her limbs outwards and assume a rough eagle position.

The problem was that nobody was fast enough to dodge bullets. Separated from her HEV, Shepard now found herself targeted by several of the Batarians' AA systems instead.

Still, her height granted her an excellent view on the landing zone, where several of her fellow Helljumpers had already dropped in.

And she spotted the AA guns with ease. Actually avoiding them however, proved to be a different task altogether.

Lilim pulled her wings in and whirled to the right, dodging an incoming stream of projectiles before it could align itself with her trajectory. Already the first Jumpers had silenced one of the AA guns and Shepard effortlessly steered out of the way of the rest, picking one of the large buildings as her own landing zone.

There was, however, one problem. Several Batarians were standing inside of her designated zone and they were laying down a field of suppressing fire at some of the boys and girls from the 105th.

The raging adrenaline that flowed through her veins did strange things to her perception of time. She saw the aliens turning as if in slow-motion, before her submachine guns tore through their kinetic barriers and ripped into their suits with a hailstorm of bullets. She tucked her legs in and covered her face with her arms.

Time returned to its normal flow. A second before she could impact on one of the hostile's, Lilim lashed out with her legs. With the immense momentum she had gained during the freefall, the result was rather unsightly Her heavy boots pulped the alien's face and together they crashed to the ground, shortly before Lilim shifted her fire and cut down his allies.

Quickly reloading, she scanned the floor for additional contacts.

None came.

Lilim smiled and cast a quick look at the aliens that were lying underneath her boots -their rightful place.

She took notice of their military gear. These ones weren't the ragtag bunch of pirates and slavers that the Batarian Hegemony had blamed.

Spirits, it appeared as if these aliens _were_ the Batarian Hegemony!

Lilim internally winced. This could turn into a mess very quickly. She hoped that the UNSC wouldn't go to war because of this; the last thing they needed now as to fight on _two_ fronts with alien aggressors, no matter how vile or dangerous.

A red square appeared on her HUD, shortly followed by several yellow dots. They pointed out where Captain Silva had landed, as well as where their objectives lay. Apparently, the Helljumpers had landed in a rough two kilometer square.

Hmm…pretty impressive for a human. At least Silva was competent.

Lilim reloaded her SMG's and leapt out of the building. This city was one of many that the UNSC was going to hit in a full-frontal assault. In just two minutes, the entire invasion force would arrive and the so-many battalions of ODST's that had been dropped in as the vanguard force could enjoy the luxury of an entire fleet's worth of army support.

The Elder Devil flexed the muscles in her wings and sighed. This planet had looked so beautiful from orbit. Lush forests, shimmering lakes and even a massive ocean…why had the Batarian Hegemony provided the UNSC with the incentive to act like the Covenant? To raze down every last city, to murder every last sentient being involved with this world's business?

Lilim tried to shake off those thoughts. Doubt would get her killed. Worse; it would get her teammates killed. It was time to link up with the squad and start ripping into the Batarian's defenses.

~0~

* * *

 **09:53 Hours, January 28** **th** **, 2539 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Designated population center "city 17" Torzakora**

"Don't do it," muttered Private Narvaez. Horror gripped his heart, desperation laced his voice. His squadmembers had _no_ idea what they were going to face. "Don't fucking do it."

"What's up Brown?" Said Corporal Haywood.

Private Narvaez watched the alien bastards stomp through the courtyard, rushing to man their positions. One of them didn't see where the hell he was going and stomped on one of the rose-like flowers in the courtyard, mercilessly crushing it. "You are so dead."

Sergeant "Eternal" Mobuto took a whiff of his cigar and barked, "Cut the chatter. Private, lace that target. Skipper needs all AA dead and buried.

Haywood grabbed Narvaez' shoulder and gave him a shove. "You heard the Sarge. Get tagging, I want to see explosions."

The Private eagerly activated his tacpad, linking the LIDAR to his HUD. Then, he placed the invisible targeting laser right atop the alien stronghold. One last hole in their AA network would allow the UNSC to pour in reinforcements like no tomorrow. ODST's were good and all, but they needed sweet artillery and air superiority.

"This is Staff Sergeant Mobuto, Delta squad!" Shouted the Sergeant. "Target laced, commence strike!"

" _Roger that Delta squad. Prepping launch."_

Positioned atop one of the larger buildings as they were, Delta squad had a perfect view on the last target. Because of that, they had been assigned the all-important task of risking sniper fire and scanning for enemy installations. Luckily, crack Monoeye marksmen had covered their frantic assault on the rooftop. They hadn't taken any casualties except for that poor little rose they had been unable to rescue.

But payback was about to come.

" _Remote-control Ataka away. Standby."_

Even from this distance, Private Narvaez couldn't miss the sudden flare and exhaust fumes of a large missile being launched from one of the buildings, before it suddenly arced across the walls, through a window and straight into the enemy's AA.

When the Private saw the resulting explosion, he knew justice had been served. "Good kill," he said. "Target down."

Captain Silva came through mere seconds later, directly addressing their ships in orbit. " _Captain Silva here. We have secured landing zone designated Kilo Alpha."_

And that was that. With all Anti-Air down, it was about time for the UNSC to show her teeth.

"Hey, Haywood?" Said Narvaez. "How much ordnance did the Admiral tell us to bring?"

The Corporal shrugged. "I dunno. Enough?"

Then, after roughly twenty seconds, Captain Richards himself issues his orders to every man and woman about to mess this colony up. " _This world has been designated as a free fire zone. All units, commence Operation Unbreakable. Serve me Erszbat_ _on a plate."_

Oh, it was go-time! It took the gathered fleet mere minutes to initiate the full invasion. Narvaez looked up and saw the entire freaking Air Force roll in. From the orbiting warships positioned overhead, a complete swarm of ships approached their position.

Pelicans dropships escorted by Raven Interceptors. Vulture gunships assuming positions in low orbit. Eagle gunships armed with absurdly overpowered 30 mm Gatling-type autocannons. More specialized landing craft to drop in Scorpions and all their variations, including the artillery chassis and their own AA platforms…

But best of all was the squadron of Longsword bombers that had just roared overhead, delivering punishing missile strikes to the largest buildings and officially kicking _Unbreakable_ off.

Narvaez, Haywood and others in their squad jumped up and started cheering as the UNSC brought its might to bear on the Batarian city. Scorpions started rolling down the road, platoons captured hills and surrounding areas to install their artillery and the M7 Special Forces started fanning out.

Mobuto softly inhaled and appraised the precision destruction. "You boys are about to see the Fall of Berlin done right, boys," he grunted.

"Good luck with that," replied Narvaez. "Berlin took weeks to take!"

"Well," said Corporal Haywood, "Let's be fair here. Berlin was slightly bigger."

In the distance, more explosions went off, and the city was made smaller yet.

~0~

* * *

 **10:12 Hours, January 28** **th** **, 2539 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Designated population center "City 06" Trondus**

 **Operation** _ **Unbreakable**_

"Hostiles at one' o clock, in that window!"

"Roger that, suppressing target!"

"Forwards!" Bellowed the newly-promoted Sergeant Jackson. The Heavyweight centaur raised his assault rifle with one hand and fired off a few shots, riling up the rest of the Marines with his booming voice. "Make them cower in fear!"

The soldiers around him shouted in return and pushed forwards, braving the pathetic Batarian defenses without fear. Assault weapons fired long sustained bursts, shotguns flared and cleared corridors and the steady _cracks_ that always went paired with another brained alien signaled that their sniper support was still active.

"Three rounds left. Cover my six, I'm reloading!"

A Minotaur launched a Jackhammer rocket launcher at a cluster of Batarians, blowing them apart. The survivors were too dazed by the explosion to notice that a Fenrir had crept up on their flanks. She threw one of them _through_ the brick wall, likely splashing all of its organs against its bones, and quickly slammed the butt of her assault rifle against the back of the skull of the other one.

"Ah, the back of my head!" Cried the alien, before more bludgeoning put an end to its babbling.

"Frag out!"

Jackson grinned as the multiple teams of Marines made their way deeper into the street. They moved with clear purpose, motivated beyond revenge. They cleared buildings room for room, covered each other with overlapping lines of fire and made good use the available cover. Harpies buzzed around the air, mimicking the erratic flight patterns of Drones to pin the enemy infantry down, while larger species made short work of them.

And there was _lots_ of cover. Buildings had been blown open, various vehicles littered the road and the occasional enemy air unit fell out of the sky in a burning wreckage.

Their tank support, designated Wardog, had moved up with a few squads to clear out one of the larger complexes and would soon rendezvous with them again.

"Hostile contacts, behind that dumpster!"

But the aliens were determined and tough, dedicated to making the UNSC fight for every inch of this urban city.

"Watch out for that runner, behind that rock-"

Jackson leapt over said rock before the Marine could finish his sentence. His heavy frame slammed into the Batarian hiding behind it and he rode the alien to the ground with ease. He bellowed, raised his front left hoof and brought it down on the alien's head, crushing its skull into a red smear.

They said that he was too heavy to be a Helljumper, that he would never fit in a HEV, and look at him now!

"Eat it!" He shouted, which attracted the attention of a squad of slavers hiding in one of the buildings. They popped out from cover and opened fire on his considerable bulk.

Jackson huffed with indignance and raised his left forearm. A quiet crackle filled the air as his shield emitters booted up, imposing a semi-transparent kinetic barrier between him and the raging Batarians. The arm-mounted tower shield reminded him of the metal plates he used to carry with the same purpose during his sparring times with his brother.

Only Matadar Xuva Jackson was long gone now, and it was up to him to continue on in his family's name.

But the Batarians were smarter than he thought; they saw that he was trying to create some distance between himself and his foes and quickly mounted a heavy machinegun in the window.

Those mass accelerator rounds would rip through his armor in seconds.

"Crap, take cover! Heavy gunner in the two-story building!"

The Batarians opened fire, forcing Jackson back into cover and cutting down three Marines who weren't able to get out of their line of fire in time.

A Harpy landed next to the Heavyweight, her claws covered with blood. "Tango company in grid four by seventeen is bogged down by reinforced positions in the building!" She shouted into her radio. "Request gunrun at designated target, Zulu Sierra five by ehm…"

Jackson peered out of cover to get a bead on the enemy's position. He was immediately rewarded by a thunderous roar of fire that nearly clipped his helmet. "Just tag the bastards girl! Use your HUD!"

The Harpy gasped. "Ah! I forgot! Requesting gunrun on marked position!"

After a few moments, someone acknowledged their request. " _Tango 2-6, this is Havoc. In the airspace and at your service,"_ said the woman on the other side of their link. " _Coming in for gunrun, hang tight."_

Bolstered by their temporary respite, the Batarians hastily organized a counter-offense and reinforced their position at the broken house, preventing the soldiers from flanking them. They put down sturdy-looking metal canisters which protected them against 7.62 mm AP rounds.

However, they underestimated the UNSC"s willingness to commit themselves to use overwhelming firepower with extreme prejudice.

" _This is Havoc, bringing the pain."_

A Sparrowhawk swept down from above, hovering right in front of the Batarian position. It boasted a 30 mm hydraulically driven autocannon, which immediately opened fire.

The results were gruesome and awesome. The HEAT-DP shells tore through the thick metal cover and stone buildings like wet tissue paper stuffed in a turbine blender and pounded the slaver-bastards into a multiple-meter-wide smear across the ground. Chunks of flesh and bone were blown across the street and Havoc was now hovering a good seven meters further away than she had begun.

Jackson roared and raised his fist. "That's how you get things _done!"_

It wasn't the Vulture gun-support they had been promised, but it was still a beauty to behold.

" _Gunrun complete, you kids can thank me later."_

"Thank you Havoc!" Said the Harpy.

Sergeant Jackson pressed on, wondering what it must feel like to pilot a multi-million piece of gun disguised as a gunship. He loved to read up on those sort of details and it brought a grin to his bearded face every time he saw his tax credits put to good use.

But they weren't done. Good grief, they weren't done at all. The next intersection was an even larger target range than before, with more than double the enemy positions. Jackson counted at least seven well-defended houses, with all sorts of aliens defending them.

But the Marines, ODST"s and other Special Forces were pouring in from sides, placing great duress on the enemy's position. Jackson saw that his fellow Liminals were basically doing his job for him! A Killer Hornet crashed through one of the walls, grabbed a hold of a Batarian with her many limbs and then sped off again before the wretched creature could scream for help.

High up in the air, she ripped into the bastard's neck. Its decapitated carcass slammed to the stone road moments later, producing a wet crack and causing some of the boys to wince.

The Batarians and their allies were very focused on the heavy infantry that was storming their position and with good reason. A Heavyweight Arachne busted through the wall of one of the smaller structures and grabbed two Batarians who had been standing too close, before brutally breaking their spines with his heavy limbs. A trio of Lamia's ambushed a fireteam of Batarians on the rooftop, slaughtering them with assault rifle fire before dispatching of the surviving ones by enveloping them in their coils and _squeezing._

Even from several meters away, Jackson could hear the breaking bones over the agonized screaming.

These Vorcha aliens were more than willing to close in with the well-trained Liminal soldiers, not realizing that it was suicidal to do so.

The Heavyweight caught a Serket scaling a building, before ramming her stinger through the chest of a Krogan gunner. She lifted the alien off its feet and threw it off the building, but it couldn't even hit the ground before two angry Killer Hornets caught it in midair and started tearing it apart in their righteous fury.

And then an angry Krogan caught sight of Sergeant Jackson. It did a double take at the Heavyweight's impressive frame and then bellowed a challenge, charging it.

"Haha!" The Centaur laughed, returning the charge with glee. Two-hundred kilograms of angry Krogan clashed with six-hundred kilograms of Jackson and the ground underneath their feet shattered. The Heavyweight shouted and punched the Krogan in its face, who then shouted as well and punched Jackson in his face.

But both faces were covered with armoured gauntlets, which made the slugfest rather destructive for their suits. But Jackson had more legs than his reptilian enemy and buried all four of them deep into the ground. Grunting with exertion, he proceeded to wrap a muscular arm around the Krogan's hips and threw the alien to the ground.

Jackson then tried stomping on its chest to put an end to its life, but the Krogan warrior was sturdier than that and grabbed a hold of his front legs, shoving him away.

The Heavyweight stumbled backwards and then readied his assault rifle, but the Krogan snatched the rifle from his hands and discarded it, roaring with rage all the while.

Scowling, Jackson took his second assault rifle and was about to pull the trigger on the alien bastard when a field of Batarian fire caught both of them in the open. Grain-sized projectiles slammed into their armoured frames and rendered his trigger useless.

"That's nonsense!" Jackson barked. He threw the Krogan away, reared back on his hind legs and brained the alien when it tried to go in for another charge.

Then, he scooped up his emergency shotgun from his stomach and unleashed 15 super-dense 8.4 mm balls that sheared away most of the alien's skull.

Now that the bastard was sufficiently dead, Jackson was able to take some breathing space. And man, did he see some nasty breathing space!

Two enemy APC"s rolled down the road, machineguns blazing all the while. They carried what looked like heavy mass accelerator cannons that could and would shred the infantry troops with one hit.

Jackson swore and quickly sprinted to cover, mowing through enemy infantry as he did. "Excuse me! Centaur coming through! Outta my way!"

One of the aliens -a Vorcha, if its ugly head was anything to go by- leapt at his side and started clawing at his flank.

Sergeant Jackson grabbed the rude alien by its neck and tore it away from his armored side. With a mighty twist, he shattered the little monster's neck.

But the APC's were more mobile than that, and soldiers began to fall. A few Harpies were shot out of the air, a Zombie was caught in the open and shot to pieces by a mass accelerator blast and two soldiers were incinerated by another cannon shot.

That was when their Scorpion support came crashing through one of the weakened buildings, literally ramming into the lead APC.

" _Hey Tango Company. Make some room for Wardog!_

The Scorpion opened fire at point-blank range. It's 120 mm APFSDS shell was only barely deflected by the enemy vehicle. But because of its extreme close range, it couldn't return fire fast enough.

Wardog's gunner didn't have that problem. The heavy machinegun opened fire. A literal storm of High Explosive Incendiary Armour Piercing rounds slammed into the APC that lasted for a whole five seconds before they hit something vital. The APC exploded in a flash of blue fire and the second APC shifted fire to the massive Scorpion MBT that had just obliterated its sister-vehicle.

But Wardog backpedaled away from the APC just as a pair of the UNSC's own armored trucks came speeding through the urban terrain. Jackson recognized them as Pumas, or Warthogs on steroids. Uparmored, fully protected seats and armed with M343 Chainguns firing even more High Explosive Incendiary Armour Piercing rounds than Wardog was capable of with its automated turret.

The enemy APC was unable to handle this overwhelming firepower and was swiftly and absolutely torn to pieces.

Jackson didn't give the idea of pirates with military gear much thought and continued shouting his beard off with joy. "Fuck yeah! Get the bastards!"

Again, the Heavyweight Centaur wondered what it felt like to pilot a massive, floating gun that could just incinerate everything with a simple push of a button.

He discarded that thought, knowing that there was no way for a Liminal like him to actually fit in a vehicle like that, and pressed on.

In the distance, two more of the Batarian APC carriers rolled up, together with another lance of infantry. Before any of their own troops could engage this new threat, a flash of light pierced the heavens and slammed down into the alien vehicles, creating a massive explosion that enveloped the entire group. One piece of armor was instantly destroyed in the blast, while a Heavyweight Arachne started ripping open the door of the second one, so that two Slimes could slip inside and neutralize the crew.

" _Vulture support online. Specter is on overwatch."_

~0~

* * *

 **10:44 Hours, December 23** **th** **, 2538 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Aboard Vulture Gunship "Specter"**

Gunner operator "Tacman" checked the systems of Specter's self-loading 40mm autocannon chaingun's, verified that they had loaded the HEAT-DP anti-infantry munitions and then gave a thumbs-up to the officer

"We are moving in position ofTrondus," said the officer. "What's your estimation?"

"UNSC forces are pushing into the city hard," replied the visual operator. "I got an eye on friendlies."

"Crew, do not fire on targets marked green, those are our guys."

"Copy that."

"Uh, we got moving vehicles just north of Zulu company. Yeah, confirmed as Mako-class APC's," said the officer.

"Request permission to engage."

Their pilot had the green light. " _Copy that, you are cleared to engage all hostile targets."_

Tacman took that as his go. "UAV feed online…theeeere wo go. Firing the one-five."

The Vulture gunship rumbled as Tacman fired the 155mm Howitzer. "Shot!"

The E34 anti-vehicle round slammed into the first Mako and resulted in a very pretty explosion. She shockwaves of the impact sent the second Mako several meters backwards, nearly flipping it upside-down as well.

"Ka-boom," said the officer. "Infantry's gonna get that one…right. Vulture support online. Specter is on overwatch."

Tacman could still remember when the Vulture gunship had first been tested in combat, back during the Harvest Campaign. Those things had been floating bunkers, sitting ducks for enemy AA. The revamped version was based on an old 22th century gunship and took the role of an in-atmosphere support platform, where only fast-movers could get them.

"Got infantry moving up. You gonna get those guys?"

Tacman fired off a burst from the 40mm autocannon. The caseless shells impacted seconds later, ripping through buildings and leveling the road.

"That's a hit. Good kill."

The gunner saw a few soldiers approach a fallen enemy soldier, who was kneeling on the ground, apparently surrendering. "Could you zoom in on sector seven by three, the surrendering Batarian?"

"Sure. One moment."

The image leapt closer and Tacman saw the Batarian soldier bow his head. One of the Marines stepped up to him to grab him, but the Batarian suddenly exploded, killing the soldier and wounding two others.

"Hot damn!" Shouted the TV operator. "Did you see that, Tac?"

"Holy hell, the four-eyes are booby-trapping themselves."

" _Ambush!"_ Cried one of the Liminals down on the ground. " _Specter, we are taking fire from the building to our right! Request fire mission on designated target!"_

"Enemy personnel in the large building. Nail them."

Tacman launched two 90mm HESH shells that reduced the building to rubble. He hit the magnification and watched a handful of the slavers crawl out of the rubble. He thought it was a miracle that they had survived, but they might as well have stayed hidden. They were immediately pounced by angry Liminals who viscerally tore them apart.

Man, payback was a bitch.

~0~

* * *

 **12:21 Hours, December 23** **th** **, 2538 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Designated population center "City 17" Torzakora**

There was no indication that the aliens were willing to go this far to stall the UNSC, no way to know what sort of tactics they were willing to commit themselves to. One moment their column was passing through what looked like a main street, flanked on both sides by impressive-looking spires and buildings, when all of a sudden the entire world seemed to explode.

Lieutenant Lilim Shepard barely had the time to register that something was wrong when she felt a chill run down her spine, driven by instincts that told her to seek cover, but it was far too late. The deafening explosion and the following flash of brilliant light rendered her deaf and blind for several long, agonizing moments, during which she felt the very earth underneath her ripple and break apart.

The explosions and gunshots that followed sounded muffled and distant, like they came from underwater.

"Ambush! Ambush!"

"Get out of that killzone, move!"

Shepard gritted her teeth and crawled back to her feet. For a split-second, she was back on Kempest, caught in the middle of an Order Church terrorist attack as her fellow Liminals were gunned down before her eyes-

The Elder Devil shook off the uncanny memory and braced herself against a piece or debris.

She was quick to realize just what had happened; in order to stop their tank column, the Batarians had rigged their buildings to blow. The two imposing towers were gone now and the entire surrounding area had been turned into rubble.

And the Batatians were mounting a counter-attack already. Large, reptilian aliens emerged from pre-prepared holes and hiding spots, two-legged and much more muscular than the slavers.

 _Krogan,_ Lilim grimly thought. Overgrown toads…were they working with the Batarians as well? Filthy, honorless monsters…

It was too bad that by this point, the UNSC was done holding back.

She quickly shook off the remaining disorientation and pulled her sidearm from her holster. She was about to unload her magazine into one of the armored aliens when someone walked up next to her. The soldier was shorter than her, but clad in a rather bulky version of the ODST armor, decorated with red streaks and a shark-skull over the helmet visor.

He was holding the strangest weapon, and in a rather odd way as well. Underhanded instead of bracing it against his shoulder.

Lilim discovered what the soldier was about to do a split-second before he unleashed an entire hellstorm of searing flames. A torrent of fire enveloped the large forms of the Krogan warriors, who howled in terror and agony as the potent mix of napalm and other chemicals cooked them alive in their suits.

The Elder Devil watched them burn with indifference. They could consider themselves lucky; the Templar Order would have done worse to them, had they incurred their wrath.

And this was where the UNSC showed its true colors. In history, the use of inhumane weapons had been deemed a war crime. Against the Covenant, they had quickly become a necessity. And even then they barely stopped the alien onslaught.

The slavers and their hired guns were nowhere near as tenacious, hardy or determined as the Covenant and it showed. Terror and panic spread among their ranks as the faster and more resilient Liminals pounced then like hungry wolves, tearing them to shreds. Lilim saw a pack of Raptor Harpies rapidly hunt down and rip apart the surviving Krogan, using their razor-sharp claws augmented by their suits to carve through the bulky alien's armor with pitiful ease.

One of the Batarians had been playing dead and quickly rose again to shoot one of the Marines in the chest with his sidearm, bearing a bloody grin. That bloody grin was still on his head after the Marine's Arachne friend twisted it off.

Lilim was not sure how to feel about this violence. Of course she approved of the brutality, but it did degrade her kin to that which the Order always insisted on dehumanizing them to; animals. It was a poetic justice, for the slave-masters to be slaughtered by those they had been seeking to imprison, but all it did for Lilim was emphasize how desperate the soldiers were.

She knelt down next to a Kobold who was smashing the butt of her shotgun against the head of a dead Batarian again and again. Reaching out for the man, Lilim said, "It is beneath us to deface the dead."

The Kobold snarled at her. "They didn't offer _our_ dead that chance!"

"I know," replied Shepard. "And we are _better_ than that. Now take your weapon, and _prove_ it."

The heavily-armored soldier with his flamethrower lowered his weapon and moved forwards, soon followed by others clad in identical suits. Overhead, Pelicans dropped off more vehicles and supplies to allow the column to regroup and rearm itself.

" _Enemy armour ahead, right in the square. Looks like we found the heart of the city."_

That _,_ they had. A heart of decadence and corruption, beating in the face of the devastation that the UNSC's air dominance laid down upon it. Lilim saw a raised platform with functioning stockades, which dominated the area. It was empty, but there was no mistaking the dozens of metal holding cages that littered the streets around it.

The Elder Devil glared at the platform, feeling her heart clench with pain at its very sight.

 _Even on the other side of the galaxy, it never changes._

Thad hundreds of arnoured vehicles in their ranks, escorting the thousands of soldiers marching into the city. Artillery was leading their way; a hundred thousand shells had been launched.

" _Support battalion Alpha niner, switching to the four-forties."_

" _Negative Alpha niner. Do not switch to higher munitions! Repeat, do not switch to higher munitions. Hummingbird drones_ _have revealed enemy VIP's in the area, as well as UNSC citizens."_

The taken civilians. That was the reason they were here, and Lilim would do everything in her power to get them back.

However, fate proved fickle that day. The UNSC was pushing into Torzakora from all sides and the Batarians became ever more desperate. Their latest tactic proved to be the vilest, most underhanded yet.

Lilim had just been leading her team deeper into the city when she rounded a corridor and stumbled across a squad of Batarians, backed up by several Krogan, setting up blockades. The Batarians quickly ran for cover while shoving smaller creatures into the fray, barking short, decisive orders at them.

They had armed children, all of them human, with their own weapons and thrusted them into the battlefield. Their eyes were hollow, completely devoid of life, and they moved without protest.

"What-?"

The little kids didn't hesitate a single moment. The very instance they caught sight of Lilim, they opened fire with weapons that seemed much too large for their frail limbs to carry.

A hail of mass accelerator fire forced the Elder Devil to seek cover immediately and she threw herself away from the killzone that the Batarians had set up. "Watch out, enemy has armed our children and are using them as soldiers!"

In that instance, faced with a very urgent threat in a chaotic battlefield, Lilim had a split-second to make her decision. Fight and kill her way through these children before they could do permanent harm to her team, or risk her fellow Hellumpers being cut down by their mass accelerator fire in trying to take them alive.

Damned if she did, damned if she didn't

The Elder Devil sighed and closed her eyes for a brief moment. She already knew what she would do, and she would hate herself for it. "Lin, find the mongrel commanding these children and gut him. I will take care of this."

As soon as the Empusa acknowledged her order, Lilim moved out. None of her soldiers were returning fire on the human children forced to partake in this war, not even the human Marines that had linked up with them. They ran around from cover to cover, drawing their fire away from their more vulnerable comrades, but they only ever fired off their weapons in the general direction of the alien aggressors.

It left Lilim with a wide margin to execute her counter-assault, She unfolded her wings and launched herself at the nearest child, wrapping her arm around its neck and pulling it away from the street. Several shots rang out and a few of them came close to hitting her, but she made it back to cover without getting hit and she quickly locked eyes with the young human in her arms. She placed a suggestion within its mind and thus put it to sleep.

A thousand curses upon the one who would press children into war!

Guided by her instinct and reflexes, Lilim danced across the battlefield, dodging enemies and friendlies alike. She was especially gifted in the art of suggestive charisma, even for her kind. And the minds of these children were so small, so numb, that they had absolutely no defense against her. The moment they beheld her hypnotic gaze, they fell asleep, and with each one she saved, the enemy fire grew weaker.

Shepard spotted Lineola sneaking up on the lead Batarian, the one calling the shots. She felt a stab of rage and indignance at having been forced to impose her will on beings this young, and silently gave the Empusa the order to cut loose.

Which she did. Lineola reared her blades back and then impaled the Batarian officer from behind, lifting him up in the air as if he didn't weight a thing. She violently stabbed him several times, sinking her blades deep within his torso ag-ain and again, punching clean through his hardsuit. With one fell strike, she then separated both of his legs, before cutting off his right arm. She lowered her victim just enough for him to shakily hold up his remaining arm, as if pleading to the Empusa.

Lineola then cut his off head, before discarding the bloody remains of his body. The normally-timid girl had a bit of a sore spot when it came to people harming the young, and the Batarian had died screaming because of it.

Lilim gently placed the last child back down on the ground and reloaded her SMG. It was time to finish this. The UNSC wanted this VIP, so she would deliver

~0~

* * *

 **Dharn / Erszbat's Fortress**

 **Batarian 7** **th** **Army division**

Within the capital of the Hegemony-controlled colony, Batarian combatants were fleeing in terror from the monsters that were coming for them. Villages had been pillaged, burned and destroyed, Templars had been executed in cold blood, civilians had been exterminated without prejudice.

Pirates, mercenaries and soldiers alike made a desperate and hastily-organized retreat back towards their last remaining line of defense. Only the most hateful, the most brazen, stayed behind to fight. The few civilians who were still alive, desperately saw cover in the bombed remains of their houses.

Ghrak Forvak was running for his life, hearing bullets impact all around him. The human weapons were so loud, so violent, they must have been designed to inspire fear into their opponents. He had heard the stories of their so-called "struggle for life" in their own war, but he had never believed them!

Ghrak looked over his shoulder.

He saw a terrible, eight-legged creature leap at a Krogan warrior from above, pinning the mighty alien to the ground with pitiful ease, before tearing into his face with black claws.

He saw a pair of Vorcha being perforated with bullets from above as two large, flying monsters soared overhead with enough speed to dodge all return fire.

He saw a human-shaped enemy soak in assault rifle fire like it meant nothing, before it swept at a Krogan with its tail, breaking its legs with that single strike.

And Ghrak saw one of their own heavy tanks rolling down the street to stop this merciless onslaught of devils, opening fire on one of their smaller vehicles-

 _Brrrrtttt!_

With a sudden roaring buzzing noise, an absolute hailstorm of metal tore through the Hegemony-Class Heavy Tank and it disappeared in a large could of dust and smoke. Moments later, some terrible cross-shaped craft soared overhead, producing another terrifying roar as it did.

Ghrak watched with silent horror at the perforated tank. What unholy machines had these monsters wrought?

The Batarian soldier was one of few who managed to find safety within the forts that lined Dharn, this world's greatest defensive city. The other cities reported the same; every major population center in the country was being scorched by absolutely-unstoppable soldiers.

There were just so many of them. They had assumed complete air dominance, complete control over armored vehicle warfare and even facing them in close quarters, as the Batarian Hegemony was so skilled in, failed to work for them now. Enforcement Gauntlets were dodged, deflected or even _caught_ midswing, the soldiers they _did_ manage to incapacitate or wound were swiftly recovered by their allies-

"Curses!" Ghrak shouted, before throwing himself to the ground. A storm of bullets tore through his cover. Through the holes in the heavy stone building, he caught a glimpse of something dark-green and very heavily-armed that rolled down the road, using a gun that existed out of _four_ barrels to punch clean through the reinforced buildings that were meant to defend against every infantry weapon in existence.

One of his colleagues threw himself down on the ground as well and the two waited the suppressive fire out, unable to even peek out from their cover at risk of getting their heads blown off.

That was when he felt something wet and cold drip down on the back of his head. "What in the name-?"

He and his comrade looked up, only see a blue ball of _something_ fall down from above. Only Ghrak had the foresigh to roll out of the way, but his unfortunate fellow soldier could not. Ghrak was forced to watch his comrade-in-arms get enveloped from head to crotch by what looked like a blue, slimy human female, with tentacles instead of that ridiculous head-fur that their kind possessed. It flashed a wicked smile, looking more like a demonic entity than an actual soldier with its glowing eyes and translucent "hide".

"Hang on!" Shouted Ghrak. The moment the enemy fire lessened, he shot towards his caught ally and moved to pull the creature off-

-only for his arms to move through its slimy body like it wasn't even there, like he was trying to scoop up water from a pond with his bare hands.

"No!" He shouted, realizing that this poor soldier was choking to death. He too tried to pull this foul creature off and he too was unsuccessful.

Ghrak whipped out his sidearm, contemplated shooting the creature, then lowered his gun again.

The enemy had stopped shooting. So had his allies. The fight was over. Either they hadn't noticed him and had moved on, leaving this monster here to dispatch of stragglers, or…

Or the fight was over and he could surrender, escape this grim fate that would certainly await him if he continued fighting.

Ghrak silently cursed himself for that decision, and put his gun away again. He lay down on the ground and watched this unknown, unnamed comrade of his die a horrible death inside the eager creature's embrace.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Better you than me…"

For a few terrible, heart wrenching moments, his fellow Batarian flailed and thrashed around. The enemy failed to notice them. They were moving on. Heavy vehicles were driving outside of his cover.

They didn't notice him.

The other Batarian died and the creature purred with happiness, before disappearing through a small crack in the wall.

Ghrak uttered a small whimper of relief. He was going to live!

Then, something busted down the wall to his left and a giant claw tipped with talons seized him by his ankle. He was dragged out of his hiding spot screaming.

The ground rapidly disappeared underneath him as the monstrosity that had caught him dragged him high up in the air. He caught a glimpse of scaled, red wings, horrible reptilian legs and a cruel smile, before the monster released him, dozens of meters above the ground

Ghrak Forvak's screams could be heard by every Liminal in the vicinity as he plunged to his death.

~0~

* * *

 **1500 Hours, January 28** **th** **, 2539 (Military Calendar) /**

 **Erszbat, Torzakora**

With a tiny jerk of his head, the Master Chief informed Blue Team to spread out and keep their eyes open. The Batarian ground forces were occupied with the UNSC assault on their military bases, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be guards posted in their remaining base.

"Blue-Two," he told Kelly. "Break out the nuke and arm it."

"Affirmative."

Blue-Four's acknowledgement signal blinked twice in John's HUD. _Enemy detected._

The Chief saw him, too. A Batarian guard standing at the intersection of the hallway. A lookout, no doubt.

He quickly waved Fred and James forwards, signaling for them to take up positions flanking the hostile. He gave the countdown for Kelly to neutralize the target in close quarters.

Three.

Two.

One.

At zero, Kelly shot towards the guard. She snaked her arm around his throat and, in one smooth gesture, snapped his neck and dragged his body out of sight.

At the same time, Fred and James whirled around the corners, checking for targets.

All clear.

The Master Chief moved forwards and eyed he route to the control room from where the Batarian VIP had been directing the defenses. He saw two hallways, both of them without backup power. Kelly's sabotage still held.

He ordered Kelly and Fred to take the left and then headed for the right. The Batarian command structure still had no idea they were being infiltrated -according to overheard chatter, they blamed the nonstop shelling of their city for the lack of power.

This section of the hallway was flanked by multiple sets of bunks in the small rooms that flanked it, as if it had been turned into a makeshift barracks. Some rooms held sleeping soldiers and the Master Chief had to silence them as they cleared room after room

" _Got a pair of guards,"_ Kelly's voice crackled over the link. " _Neutralized."_

The Master Chief followed the dark hallway all the way to what appeared to be the command building. Occasionally, he and James would encounter stressed-out officers shouting orders into radios, and they had to bypass them to keep their cover. Someone would find the bodies sooner or later and they needed all the time they had.

At one point, he and James came across a larger structure, with a balcony where several Batarian soldiers were standing on the lookout. John thought it odd for such an elaborate bunker to have been constructed completely underground.

He held out his fist, signaling James to freeze. "Enemy guards at our ten," he calmly said over the commlink. "Blue-Two and Blue-Three, are you in position?"

" _Wait one, sir."_ There was a brief pause, after which Kelly added, " _Moving to position now."_

The two Bataran guards were roughly grabbed from behind and pulled back inside of the building they had been guarding.

" _Threats neutralized. Proceeding to target position."_

" _This is the place,"_ added Fred. " _Gor'vak has to be here."_

The Master Chief waved James forward again and quickly crossed the open ground towards the one building that they hadn't fully cleared by now. The two dead guards lay folded away in a corner and Kelly was fumbling with a heavy door, placing a C12 charge near the lock.

She wasn't Grace, but she knew her explosions.

"Non-lethal only," said John. "ONI needs this source."

Blue Team flashed their acknowledgement lights green, signaling that they were ready

The Master Chief held out his fist and clenched it, softly.

Kelly detonated the C12 charge and blew the door from its hinges.

The Chief whirled around the corner, coming face-first with about twelve armed guards and six unarmed officers.

Spartan time kicked in.

~0~

* * *

 **16:07 Hours, January 28** **th** **, 2539, (Military Calendar) /**

 **Erszbat, Torzakora**

" _Sixty seconds to weapon release."_

Lieutenant Anderson stood right next to the Elder Devil working as Captain Silva's second-in-command, watching over her shoulder as the Helljumpers huddled around the Pelican. They were getting the last of the wounded onboard, including several of the children that the ODST's had managed to rescue during a harrowing push into the east.

Even in battles like this, individual soldiers still excelled. The Batarians had been using a handful of kids as meat-shields, having brainwashed them into shooting anything that moved. One Helljumper -an Elder Devil, apparently, had then proceeded to take out the Batarians in that particular zone and safe those children without a single friendly casualty.

" _Forty seconds to weapon release."_

Anderson was skeptical. A single soldier, taking out half a dozen armed kids without hurting any of them? A _Helljumper?_ If there was any truth to that story, he was very impressed, but…

" _Excellent work people,"_ said Captain Silva, who had assumed control over all remaining UNSC ground forces in Torzakora. " _The VIP's are secure, the gear is in place. Your orders are simple; verify the effect of the VX strike and then pull out at the designated exfil zone."_

" _Copy that sir,"_ said the Captain's second-in-command. " _We'll be back before supper."_

Anderson verified his gasmask for the fourth time and readied his rifle. If this thing actually worked, they would be done for the day.

" _Twenty seconds to weapon release."_

The brass had grown tired of city 17's stark resistance at its core. Shock and awe tactics were all proper form when intimidating an enemy into surrendering, but when the Batarians had started strapping their own civilians, wounded and even dead with grenades and booby-traps, all semblances of humane warfare had been blown out the window.

As a special reward for the Batarian crimes on Mindoir, coupled with their complete lack of laws of war on their own world, the UNSC Fleet Command had labeled this engagement as Designation Purple, officially declaring it a crisis that needed to be handled with the same mindset as a Covenant invasion.

That essentially meant tactics that would normally be punished as war crimes now became a necessity for victory.

Not that they actually _needed_ those tactics. But Anderson couldn't blame the brass; they had managed to rescue a grand total of three-hundred slaves during this entire operation, weighed off against the thousands that had been taken.

the Longsword soared overhead and delivered its lethal payload. In a small cluster of explosions, the inner core of the city was enveloped in clouds of lethal VX-7 nerve gas.

The potent nerve agent had been used extensively in the past to stop the Covenant's war machine, with mixed results. Soon, entire city-blocks would be dosed with the stuff, killing everybody who hadn't prepped themselves with fully-sealed suits. Even dermal exposure was lethal.

Anderson raised his assault rifle and then lead his team through the interior of the remaining buildings that the Batarians had turned into bunkers, splitting off from the other squad leaders and fanning out among the UNSC infantry.

The buildings in the center of Torzakora had all been turned into makeshift bunkers, where the aliens could prepare for the worst forms of warfare. Their traps still littered the quiet hallways and every now and then, Anderson would have his team stop completely to search the entire damn building for survivors.

He was prepared to gun down every alien he encountered, but as it turned out, that wasn't necessary. In direct contrast to the Covenant, which employed troops with sealed combat armor almost as soon as the gas hit them, the Batarians weren't prepared for a chemical strike. Dead bodies lay sprawled against the walls, slumped over machinegun turrets and scattered across the ground. Their eyes had been burned by the gas, their muscles had locked them in the positions they had died in. Krogan, Batarians, even Vorcha. It didn't matter, the neurotoxin didn't discriminate.

Anderson didn't know how to feel about this. Gassing the Covenant was one thing, but gassing these aliens…it didn't feel right.

Then he remembered Mindoir. The dead streets, the mutilated bodies, the gravely-wounded little Dragon.

They did this to themselves, he reasoned. The Batarians had assaulted the UNSC at its most vulnerable and they had been beaten down mercilessly.

"Anderson here," David eventually called in. He kicked one of the dead Krogan against its skull, noticing the yellow foam that caked its mouth. As formidable as these monsters were, they still needed to breathe. "Sector secure. Effectiveness of VX nerve gas verified."

" _Copy that Lieutenant. Erszbat is ours. Pull back to the designated exfil zone."_

Anderson sighed. "Copy that sir. We're coming home."

~0~

* * *

 **16:32 Hours, January 28** **th** **, 2539, (Military Calendar) /**

 **In orbit over Erszbat**

The Master Chief piloted the Pelican through the exit burn of their orbital path, then sent the ship towards the _Impending Kickass_. The Carrier looked dented and damaged, but from what he had heard, the space battle had been a complete victory for the UNSC.

" _Master Chief, what's your status?"_ Asked Captain Richards.

"Inbound in five, sir," replied the Chief. "The prisoners are still unconscious."

" _Make sure he lives; the Office can't wait to ask them some questions."_

"Got it sir." He killed the uplink and pushed the engines to 100 percent. The dropship suddenly accelerated at full speed straight up, and then angled away to the east.

"Ugly bastard, ain't he?" James said, nodding at a slumped-over Batarian prisoner. "Fifteen years of Covenant genocide and the worst these things can think up is a slave raid?"

"I heard it was pretty bad at Mindoir," replied Fred. "Batarians really made the civilians suffer."

"Simply dying would be a better fate," Kelly quietly said. "We didn't even free a tenth of the prisoners."

In response, the Master Chief activated his remote radio transceiver and quickly keyed in the final fail-safe code, then sent the coded transmission on its way.

Several suns appeared on the horizon. They blotted out the light of the system's star, bathing the planet with amber light that quickly cooled to red. The simultaneous seven nuclear explosions across the colony darkened the sky with black clouds of dust.

"John is right," Said James. "It's something."

"It's not enough," whispered Kelly.

~0~


	7. 1,5: Daily life with politics

Warning: this chapter contains some dark moments. I know, again, not humor and romance, but our lovely ladies need their introductions and backstories.

Rest of author's note at the end of the chapter.

~0~

* * *

 **[TIME STAMP REDACTED] 2539 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Aboard UNSC Cruiser** _ **Consummate Performer**_

The medical bay had been temporarily sealed off and refitted for the dozen or so children that had been rescued during the invasion of the slaver-colony. IV-drips were connected to their arms, though which a mixture of nourishment and mild sedatives slowly trickled into their veins.

Admiral Parangosky watched the little things with a mixture of anger and sorrow. The rescue had come in time for these little ones, but not for the hundreds more that had been auctioned away by the batarians.

A few of them were starting to doze off, but the rest was simply staring off into nothingness with dull, empty eyes.

Parangosky wordlessly shook her head. Was there any point in rescuing these little children if their souls had been left behind in the process? As far as she could see, there wasn't a child left in any of them. They were just…empty husks

"Tell me something doctor," she asked of the medic standing closest to her. "And don't sugar-coat it. Are these children going to recover?"

The medic -an old woman with greying hair and heavy wrinkles- sighed wearily. "I'm afraid not, ma'am. It's been seven weeks, but they show no sign of any cognitive or emotional improvement."

The Admiral grunted. "And they still refuse to eat?"

"They don't even want to drink. We have tried everything, even rehabilitation programs used for orphans of war and child soldiers, but…"

"It doesn't stick."

The medic lowered her eyes. "I fear the brain implants that the aliens…surgically implanted…might have done permanent damage."

"And violence?"

The older woman blinked with surprise. "E-excuse me, ma'am?"

Parangosky leant down against the sheet of glass that separated her from the medical bay. "How do they respond to aggression? Perceived threats? Violence?"

"I…to allow for our reintegration therapy to work, we specifically prevented the children from coming into contact with any negative stimuli."

"Hmmm…I see. Please inform General Eventide that I wish to speak to him."

The medic nodded. "Of course, ma'am."

As the woman walked away, Parangosky turned to look at the children again. Lieutenant Shepard's debriefing had been clear enough; the children had been specifically ordered to attack and they had specifically followed that order, indiscriminately opening fire on command.

Which meant that they were not nonresponsive. They _did_ respond; the UNSC had just not provided them with the stimuli their brains were now wired to react to.

The General arrived roughly three minutes later. Eventide was a…strange man to work with. His reputation rivalled hers, only he did not rule his subordinates with the amount of fear that Parangosky preferred. Perhaps that would end up costing him dearly in the years to come. Perhaps that was what made his subordinates so exceedingly loyal.

"Margaret," the man greeted her. His dark hair ended in a short ponytail and his beard had been trimmed shortly. His right eye still had not healed properly, and he wore a rather old-fashioned patch to cover it.

Parangosky observed her colleague for a few moments. He had signed up with the UNSC at a _very_ young age, sooner than legally permitted. Excelled at most, if not all classes too. His actions and experience during his time as leader of a Special Forces team had attracted ONI's attention and…well, his ascension through the Office's ranks had been unheard of.

He was the only man Margaret was wary of, and the only man she trusted no matter what the cost.

"Jack. The children aren't going to recover from their ordeal."

The General glanced at the medical bay. Wordlessly, he stared at the kids, his expression inscrutable.

"All attempts at normal rehabilitation have failed," continued the Admiral. "I see but two options left. The first one is to terminate all eleven of them."

"Terminate?"

"Increase their dosage, end their suffering."

"A mercy kill."

"Exactly."

He grunted. "And the second option?"

Margaret didn't immediately reply. She took another look at the children whose fate she now resided. "We are living in trying times. The Covenant is allocating more and more resources and logistics to the conflict, and the Hegemony is not going to back down. The Hierarchy wants to support us, but the Asari Republics is still against it."

"We're running out of support."

"And we need more. These children…I believe I should demonstrate."

The Admiral opened the doors to the medical bay and stepped inside. The General followed her in.

"Give them an order," she told him.

He glanced at her and his one eye tightened. "What kind of order?"

"Any."

The General took a breath and then called, "Stand up!"

As one, the eleven kids started struggling against the medication and drugs that still lingered in their system. Some managed to stand, others managed to wrestle themselves out of their beds. None of them failed to react.

"Stop!"

The children ceased their struggling.

"The batarians mentally programmed them to obey orders," deduced the General.

"Better than most soldiers."

He turned to look at her.

Margaret stood straighter and looked Jack straight in his eyes. "With the proper training and equipment, they can still function in society."

"As a Special Forces unit."

She nodded. "Your thoughts?"

The General took a few moments to deliver his reply. "They lack flexibility. Their mental scars will get in the way of their training. In the field, a split-second decision can mean the difference between failure or success."

"Which is why I am asking you to train them."

He looked at her, his brows furrowing

"I want you to be their example. Their boss. To inspire them, to gain their loyalty and command them into battle."

Jack grunted. "I don't do a lot of leading these days, Margaret."

"Yet your status as legendary soldier remains firmly embedded in the minds of almost every soldier today."

She didn't need to tell him that almost every race had a different alias for him. The Snake, the Mercenary, the One who Went. Silly superstitions that only increased the attention he gained, but they _worked_.

"You realize what this would take. _Another_ child soldier unit."

"With or without a unit, these children will never have a normal life. The Batarian Hegemony made sure of that."

The General nodded, understanding. "You'll hear from me."

"I don't doubt I will."

~0~

* * *

 **Citadel tower**

 **Council meeting room**

Several holographic displays were floating before the turian Councillor as he watched the footage of Captain Tracheus' battlegroup, from more than three years ago.

It was the umptieth time he had watched the footage, yet the horror he experienced while watching the footage was still as fresh as the first time.

The fleet of the United Nations Space Command, 26 vessels had been an even match for the Hierarchy's fleet of 73 vessels. A UNSC fleet of more than 60 vessels, even augmented by Tracheus' battlegroup, had been thoroughly outclassed by the Covenant's fleet of 37 ships.

That meant ships that were a match for three Council warships on their own, had to outnumber a Covenant warship three to one in turn.

On average, one Covenant warship would need nine Council ships to counter.

The Hierarchy had a large fleet, with thousands of ships at its disposal. But the way the Covenant had been systematically destroying human worlds suggested that they too had thousands of ships.

Spirits, a single fleet the likes had been encountered by Tracheus had to be fought with literally hundreds of warships to stand a chance and even then, the casualties would be astronomical!

The footage did not lie. The humans fired their nukes as ship-to-ship weapons. They could be seen detonating among the Covenant fleet, serving only to down shields and destroy unshielded vessels. Thousands of normal missiles streaked across space, each one possessing enough raw firepower to reduce any Hierarchy Frigate to a wreckage.

Sparatus had heard the report. The Covenant ships could take hundreds of missiles before their shields collapsed and their anti-fighter weapons were very accurate, swatting down at least a third of the projectile weapons before they could impact. Most kinetic based weapons were useless.

No, instead he turned his attention to the Covenant's weapon systems again. He watched the footage of one of the largest Covenant vessels. A monster more than twice the size of the Hierarchy's mightiest dreadnaughts. White-blue beams sprang from its prow and two UNSC vessels detonated at the exact same moment it fired.

Sparatus gestured at the holographic image and the footage was reset. He then slowed it down by a factor thousand.

The result? White-blue beams sprang from its prow and two UNSC vessels detonated at the exact same moment it fired.

There was no visible delay; in the blink of an eye, faster than even mass accelerator rounds fired by the mightiest of Dreadnaughts, the vessel annihilated its targets.

A weapon that was even faster than mass accelerator rounds. Lasers, most likely. Just like the GARDIAN system. "Just like" in the same way that a Dreadnaught slug and a pistol round were "just like" each other.

Another camera view, from the Frigate _Phalanx Duty._ A smaller Covenant vessel -still the size of a Dreadnaught- unleashed its own weapon. Bolts of energy coalesced into a fiery smear against the blackness of space. The deadly flashes of light impacted on one of the UNSC's mighty Destroyers, with more than two citadel meters of armor plating.

The bolts of energy splashed across its hull. Its two meters of armor plating instantly boiled away, and a plume of ignited atmosphere burst from the breach in the ship's hull.

It had taken Hierarchy ships dozens of dozens of mass accelerator rounds to reach the same result, even with Heavy Cruisers. It meant that the Covenant could fire weapons that outclassed _everything_ in their arsenal.

Praying to the Spirits that the Covenant wouldn't find any Council worlds, of course, was useless. One Asari colony in the Attican Traverse had already reported a strange alien vessel in-system, shortly before going dark.

A scenario that, according to Ambassador Akuma, the USNC knew all too well.

Someone knocked on the door and Sparatus immediately waved his holograms away. There was no need to pester his colleagues with this information just yet. After all, Captain Tracheus had been acting "on his own initiative" in coming to the UNSC's aid.

As expected, Tevos and Valern entered the chamber. The asari Councillor had scheduled a meeting regarding a conflict on Hegemony space.

Of course, Sparatus had "no clue" what she meant. It hadn't stopped Tevos from scheduling a meeting and here he was.

Secretly longing to hear how the UNSC had ravaged those slaver bastards.

"My fellow Councillors," he said. "There you are."

"Greetings, Spartatus. You arrived early?"

The turian waved away her concern. "I finished my paper work early today. You wished to speak about Hegemony space?"

"Not just Hegemony space," corrected Valern. "The things that took _place_ in Hegemony space. The colony called Erszbat, to be precise."

The two Councillors sat down around the table with Sparatus. Valern quickly tapped in a few commands into the holographic display of the table and waved with his omni-tool, "throwing" his files into the projector.

"More than a month ago, the human colony Mindoir was raided by batarian slavers," explained the salarian. "You remember this, do you not, Sparatus?"

"Yes, Sparatus. Back when you went against our agreement and spurned the humans on? I do hope you realize that the UNSC committed themselves to unnecessary war crimes on Erszbat!"

"War crimes?" Protested Sparatus. "Preposterous!"

At that, Valern produced several holographic looping video fragments, each of which ran for up to five seconds before looping again.

He pointed at an image of a heavily-armored soldier hosing down batarian infantry with a flamethrower spouting liquid fire that stuck to the batarian soldiers' armor. "Hm?"

"Oh, that's just flame-based technology to burn through armored vests."

He pointed at an image of several Fenrir's chasing down and then butchering unarmed batarian soldiers. "Hmm?"

"Chasing down a foot-runner, no problem there."

He pointed to an image of several Killer Bee's ripping into and dismembering every member of a small fireteam, coating the top of the building they had been using as a vantage point with red blood and viscera. "Hmmm?"

"They were just…thoroughly eliminating a threat…"

He pointed to the image of several canisters releasing gas that, as soon as it even made contact with the skin, paralyzed and killed the batarian soldiers. "Hmmmm?!"

"Ah…that is…"

He pointed to the image of seven nukes detonating simultaneously. "HMMMM!"

Sparatus raised his finger to protest, realized there was no defending and then dropped it again. "Where did you even get these images?"

"Goddess…" muttered Tevos. She covered her mouth and muttered, "Seeing it like this…I cannot believe the UNSC would _do_ that!"

"STG operatives on site," explained Valern. "Were gathering information before the UNSC attacked."

"Why?" Demanded Tevos. "Why would they fall so low? Sparatus, you believed them to be a martial race!"

The turian Councillor crossed his arms. "They are."

Valern quickly rattled off the details. "The UNSC employed chemical, liquid fire that sticks to clothes, armor and skin. They also employed a neurotoxin that kills upon skin contact and then, as if that wasn't enough, employed _seven_ nuclear devices upon leaving."

"Seven instances of nuclear fire…what in the name of the Goddess possessed them! And what are _these_?" She pointed at the image of the Killer Hornets, who were in the process of ripping a batarian soldier in two."

"Those are Hornet girls, a subset of the Killer Bee species," Sparatus replied with mild annoyance. "If we can please focus on what prompted this attack, we can-"

But the asari Councillor interrupted him, impolitely so. "Hornet? Killer Bee? What do you mean, what are these creatures?"

Councillor Sparatus sighed. "Killer Bee is not the official scientific name, but it is how the species is called in their military. They look human, but they have many features that resemble insectoids. Mandibles, abdomen, wings." He paused. "Stingers."

Valern stared at him.

"But how are they capable of doing _that?"_ Continued Tevos. She gestured at the looping image of the Hornets ripping into the batarian soldier. "That soldier was still wearing his hardsuit!"

"Yes. Killer Hornets, the subspecies, have a chitinous exoskeleton that covers their limbs and sections of their body, serving as a lightweight but very effective natural protection. It covers their fingers as well, giving them natural claws that can cut through most hardsuits with ease."

Valern's stare intensified.

"But even a krogan needs time to…to achieve the same grisly result! If these "girls" are light enough to fly, how can they do _that!_ Oh Valern, please, put those images away, we have seen enough!"

The science in the salarian Councillor's eyes never diminished as he severed the connection between the holographic display and his omni-tool.

"Ah yes, krogan," Sparatus snidely remarked. "Galaxy-wide known as the strongest race in combat. We have dismissed that claim."

Tevos looked at him, confused, while Valern sighed and shook his head. "Get on with it, Sparatus! What do you mean?"

"Most, if not all of the Liminal species have a physical strength and durability exceeding that of the krogan," he replied. "These Killer Hornets? They can tear through reinforced metal like the cannons of a Dreadnaught do with kinetic barriers."

"And how, might I ask, do you know all of this?" Demanded Valern.

Sparatus blinked. Ah. Well, had he ever dug himself a sinkhole. "I…ah…yes! Any proper Councillor takes their time to study their fellow races and understand their culture!"

"Ah, of course. I understand. How could I forget-"

"Are you two serious?" Exclaimed Tevos. "Sparatus, you…please do return to the issue at hand. The UNSC attacked in retaliation for the slave raid, but the Hegemony still claims they have nothing to do with that attack! Their ambassador is furious that one of their worlds was so utterly ravaged in an unprovoked attack!"

"Unprovoked?" Spat Sparatus. "How ridiculous. The Hegemony has been practicing slaver for years! They chose to assault a nation they _knew_ would respond with a swift and crushing military action! This would be like groping a Matriarch and then demanding someone arrest her when she flings you through the window!"

"It is not that simple!" Tevos sharply replied. Then, her features softened and she calmly said, "Erszbat _did_ feature human and Liminal slaves. However, there is simply too little evidence to suggest the Hegemony actually supporting this. The Hegemony _will_ demand blood."

The batarian Hegemony demanding blood for an expected retaliation, the UNSC focusing their military assets on a grovelling, slavery-practicing nation…it felt so trite and trivial compared to the threat that the Covenant posed. He could not reveal more about them, lest his fellow Councillors understand that he was secretly allocating resources to the UNSC's aid, but they were a foe who could lay waste to the entire Citadel defence fleet with but a single battlegroup! And they could _appear_ anytime they wanted, because they did not depend on the Mass Relay network!

"We are not going to risk a war," Valern immediately replied. "The UNSC does not require Element Zero for their warships. Because of that, they are not dependant on the Mass Relay network. Need I remind you, Sparatus, that their Frigates possess weapons with the yield to rival the _Destiny Ascension'_ s?"

Sparatus shrugged. "I know they do! If the batarians want a war with the UNSC, I will not stand in their way."

"Sparatus!" Exclaimed Tevos. "There will be _no_ war! Today, we will be meeting with the Hegemony's ambassador as well as the UNSC's. I propose we schedule them at the same hour, and allow diplomacy to solve this problem. I am certain that Ambassador Ser'aphim will be understanding."

The turian Councillor glared at his colleague. "Of the seven-thousand people who were abducted from Mindoir, the UNSC managed to rescue a bare hundred. I am certain, Tevos, that even your Goddess would not have been understanding in that situation."

~0~

* * *

 **Epsilon Eridani System**

 **Tribute**

 **City of Irbid**

Knight-Sergeant Marcus knelt down next to the Angelus Infantry Fighting Vehicle and displayed the objective on his TACPAD. "Brothers, we are close now," he told his Scribes. "The abomination's den is hidden away beyond the hospital."

"What about the collaborators inside?" Asked brother Leon. "The traitors in there work with the abominations. They too must be sile*nced."

"I shall take the first cathar and cleanse that site," replied Knight-Sergeant Marcus. "We shall meet each other near the southern approach. Be swift, be silent. Leave no survivors."

The Scribe touched his heart with his fist and bowed. "Of course, milord."

Marcus gestured at the rest of his cathar. Eighteen well-trained and well-armed Scribes, ready to do the Lord's will. The Templar Order could be likened to a lance, striking with precision and without mercy. This cathar was no different. They were clad in the best gear that the Order's money could buy, including pieces of technology that they should technically not be able to lay their hands upon.

"With me! We shall not let suffer these wretches to live!"

The Angelus IFV started moving towards the hospital, their first major hindrance. The government of Irbid had not wished to incur the wrath of the Templar Order and as such, had allowed their strike force to enter the city's districts in search for the Black Fang mongrel terrorists. Their information suggested that the collaborators of the infamous Arachnera Clan were working at the local hospital.

The collaborators, and those who served them, had to be cleansed.

The Knight-Sergeant lifted his MA5Z modified assault rifle. It had been outfitted with a custom-designed heavy barrel and "Grey Talon" armor-piercing hollow-point munition. The vile monsters that they had been sent to vanquish were resistant to normal small-calibre fire and required specialized ammo to put down for good.

It occurred to him that their quarry might be suspecting trouble; after all, their kind was known for their information-gathering abilities as well.

"Watch for spider silk, the abominations use them to great effect."

Arachne's…vile creatures. Their superior abilities made them one of the most powerful monsters to deal with. Covered with a black exoskeleton, the abominations were hardy and difficult to kill, as well as lethal in close quarters. Their reflexes made them difficult to pin down as well.

Yes, as much as it pained the Knight to admit it, Arachne were physically superior to his Scribes.

But the thought of facing down those creatures worried Marcus not, for his Templars were among the finest and most well-trained warriors in the galaxy. Their training was more rigorous than even the United Nations Space Command subjected their Special Forces to, and their discipline was unmatched.

No, his cathar would not fail.

"Brother Leon, follow the Angelus and cut the enemy off at the rear of the hospital. You four, go with him The rest of you, with me. This scourge on the blood of man shall end here."

It was late in the evening, yet the hospital was still open. A single woman sat upon the reception, though closer inspection revealed she was no woman at all. She was an abomination as well; a vile Jorōgumo.

The first give-away of her abhorrent nature were the six, blood-red eyes on her face. And though she stood hidden behind the counter, keeping up the appearance with the body of a human woman, Knight-Sergeant Marcus knew that she had a disgusting spider abdomen protruding from the base of their spine.

He had to be wary of the six arachnid limbs she had hidden in her gown, which were attached to her back and could rend a man's flesh from his bones with but a simple movement.

The abomination looked up upon the Templar's entrance, no doubt alarmed by her keen senses. Her many eyes settled upon him, and she gasped upon recognising him for what he was. When his brothers and sisters followed him in, the Jorōgumo tensed up.

The custom-designed battle armor of the Templar Order was hard to mistake for anything but an oncoming storm.

"You are not welcome here!" She hesitantly told them. The creature was frightened, perhaps knowing what they were going to bring to this place.

"Tell us where the Arachnera Clan resides," Marcus brusquely demanded. He had no time for a prolonged interrogation.

"Go away! This is a place of healing!"

"So it is." The Knight-Sergeant pulled his sidearm and shot the creature between her two lower eyes. The advanced and integrated silencer made sure that only the abominations heard them, whilst leaving the humans with their normal hearing undisturbed. "And heal this place we shall. Scribes, search this hospice. Slay the abominations on sight."

The Scribes split up and fanned out, four warriors for each route. They raised their rifles, attached to them their silencers as well and started the bloody work of the Lord.

Knight-Sergeant Marcus had long ago discarded the feelings of hesitation and guilt that came with assignments such as these. Upon being selected for the Holy Templar Order, he had been told that God would reward those who could set aside their doubt. And he had believed it. He had gone through the excruciating training, he had learned the prayers and mantras by heart and with time, the guilt had been eroded from his heart by the Lord.

The groups went from room to room, searching for the ones that they had been tasked to eliminate.

True to the information gathered on-planet, this city was a haven for the abominations. Tribute had an infestation. There were many species working and residing within the hospice. More Jorōgumos, as well as several Arachne breeds. Small Breed ones, with reflexes that no creature should possess. But their physical prowess was laughable, and all of the Knights were trained in martial arts.

Marcus went from room to room, silencing those that stood in his way. But there was no sign of his prey, the Clan that held this place together.

The security detail must have sensed the silenced shots ringing out, for the Knights started running into Long Legs.

The Knight-Sergeant knelt down on one knee, aligned his crosshairs with the chest of the first officer and squeezed the trigger. His rifle coughed and a trio of armor-piercing hollow-point rounds struck the creature's chest, where her chitinous exoskeleton made way for skin. The rounds expanded within her soft tissues, making for grievous injuries.

The creature died within seconds after being hit.

The Long Legged abominations returned fire and the hallway had little in means of cover. But the hardened battle suits of his Scribes would not buckle after one meagre pistol round, and the abominations did not carry anything with a sharper bite.

The firefight did not last a minute.

~0~

* * *

The young Arachne raised her head when she heard the strange sounds. Unfamiliar noises didn't often belong in hospitals like these -they were often regarded a sign of trouble. Still, she was only an intern here and she didn't want to intrude. It was already getting late, so it could be the receptionist closing off.

She glanced at the clock in the corner of the room, it's digital display pulsing with a soothing green light.

 _22:39_

It couldn't be the receptionist; Matsuki knew better than to make noise this late in the evening.

She frowned and edged towards the door. Her father would tell her to stay vigilant, but Irbid was not exactly the kind of city that would attract trouble. Despite Tribute being so close to the fortress world, people rarely took their business outside the economical and industrial faculties. And Irbid wasn't that important.

Still, her mother would tell her that the UNSC might not care for their community in the city, and that there were other people that did. People scarier than the aliens, acting more like beasts than men.

Stories like those often kept her up at night.

But they couldn't be _here_ , right? This was just a hospital.

The Arachne reassured herself of that. She stayed near the door for a few more moments, listening for any more weird noises.

Yes, if she listened close enough, those strange sounds she heard could be likened to one of the machines, diligently doing its work even this late.

She should be getting back to her spinning; the silk wouldn't gather itself.

That was when she heard the gunshots, and she tensed up. What the hell was going on?

For one, incredibly-tense minute, the gunshots continued, and her thoughts continued to race. Was this a crazed gunman? A hate crime? If so, the security guards would be more than capable of handling it. So why did they have to shoot so much?

And then the shooting stopped, with no more noises following. It was completely silent, which frightened her even more than the shooting. Shouldn't the guards be ringing an alarm, or evacuating people?

The lights in her room suddenly turned off, leaving her in pitch black darkness. Luckily, her eyes were sensitive enough to allow her to see in the dark, but why would the power suddenly fail like that?

She slowly opened the door to the hallway and looked outside. The lights there were out too, leaving the people who came out of their rooms to see what going on stumbling in the darkness.

That included Alan Miller, the war orphan who lay in the room opposite of hers. He was a year older than her and had been taken to this hospital after he had gotten badly hurt in a fight with a pair of adult Arachne's. The violence had opened up old wounds from the Covenant attack on Jericho VII, as he had needed weeks of rehab to even be able to shower on his own.

The left side of his face was still bandaged up from where those Liminals had cut him up.

The human boy looked at her and slowly pressed his index finger to his lips.

It was a simple gesture and it could have meant anything, but it still disturbed her as much as the sudden and eerie silence following the gunshots. Alan was a very enduring kid; he hadn't spoken more than a few words since he had been brought to this hospital, bleeding and dying. The only thing he ever did was watch the people around him.

Still, she understood what he meant and tried to stay calm. More patients were leaving their rooms now, alarmed and waken by the sudden violence.

"Miss?" One of the children, a little Raptor Harpy, asked her. "Did something happen?"

"I -I don't know," she replied. She glanced at Alan, who was now intently watching the other end of the hallway. "Stay in your room, you'll be fine there."

More people left their rooms now. They didn't seem to care about staying quiet.

"What was that?"

"Were those guns?"

"What's happening?"

Two bright lights appeared at the other end of the hallway, hovering in mid-air.

The Arachne squinted her eyes. It almost looked like flashlights. The security guards?

A heartbeat later, that same odd noise as before rang out. Warm blood splattered across her face and chest as bullets tore through the unprotected patients around her.

People started screaming.

Alan immediately darted across the hall and grabbed her waist. "Back," he hissed. "Back."

She barely heard him. She stared at the blood that coated her arms, silently dripping to the ground. Several feet away, the bodies of the people she had known for weeks, for _months_ , littered the ground. They were friends, colleagues, people she was meant to look out for.

Someone grabbed her wrist and she gasped, tearing her gaze off of the blood-sprayed walls. "W-what?"

"Speak quietly," he quietly said, shooting a sideways glance at the door with his one good eye. "Focus. What's your name."

"My…my name…" She swallowed a lump in her throat and forced herself to start breathing normally. She could do this. "Rachnera…of the Arachnera Clan…what-"

He placed his finger to his lips again and pointed to the door at the other end of the office. "I want to live. So do you. Stay low, and keep quiet."

Those were more words than he had spoken during his entire stay here. "Do you know what's happening?" She whispered at him, but she heard the people with the guns coming closer and she winced; her voice was so loud!

The two of them immediately headed towards the second door and Alan carefully opened it. He moved with such certainty, such confidence. Was this like the Covenant assault on Jericho VI to him? Was that why he was so calm?

But the doctors had confirmed that he had PTSD. She had overheard them talking one evening, when she had been aiding the administrator.

So why the calmness?

"Safe…" he breathed. "Come on."

Rachnee hesitantly followed the human. Her mother had always told her to be careful of their kind. Humans had developed a sort of natural phobia of many species, including the Arachne. But right now, Alan seemed about the least dangerous person to be around.

The hallway ran around the side of the building. It had a lot of windows, but they were somewhat tinted to guarantee the privacy of the patients and doctors walking around.

The power was still out, even in this hallway. That made the giant, hovering searchlight on the other side of the window even stranger.

"Cover," said Alan.

By the time the human had dropped to the ground to avoid the giant searchlight, Rachnera had hopped up to the ceiling. The window didn't reach all the way to the roof, and there was about two or three feet that she could use for cover. Just enough space for her to hide from whatever was shining at then from outside.

Alan didn't have that same space. With only a few inches of wall to work with, his silhouette would easily be spotted from outside.

Reacting faster than any human possibly could, Rachnee dropped down from above, grabbed the wounded boy in her arms and leapt for the window again.

The searchlight glided over the spot he had just been occupying mere moments before.

She could feel her hearts beating like crazy, and it became very difficult to keep calm. What else was she supposed to do, she had only barely reached her fourteenth shedding! She was stuck in the middle of a terrorist attack on _Tribute_ , right next to Reach!

Where was the UNSC?

"What do we do?" Rachnee whispered. She fought hard to keep her voice from breaking, but she only barely managed. She had never been this scared in her life. "Where is the police? The army?"

"Keep going," the boy told her as if he didn't even hear her. He didn't protest to being kept in her arms, but Rachnee gently put him down nonetheless, afraid of insulting him. The searchlight seemed to disappear around the turn up ahead.

They rounded the corner and saw one of the doctors trying to pull a bleeding security guard through the hallway. Rachnee recognized the wounded Long Leg as Eleena, one of the younger members of the team.

The two of them always drank tea together in the morning.

The doctor and Eleena were bathed in a torrent of light as the searchlight caught up with them. The windows shattered as a deadly hailstorm of metal tore through the hallway, ripping apart everything in a three-meter radius. The walls were painted crimson as Eleena and the doctor were perforated with hundreds of bullets, shattering her exoskeleton, cutting through her legs and ripping apart her chest.

Rachnera screamed. Tears streamed down her face as she reached out for her friend, futilely so. All thoughts of escaping the hospital alive fled from her mind and she only barely registered the human at her side, pulling at her arm with both of his hands.

"It's coming back. Rachnera, It'll catch us in the open."

She shoved him away with a single gesture, throwing him against the window. Who did things like this? Who the fuck would attack a hospital and start gunning down everyone?

Alan crawled back to his feet as the searchlight came back for another run.

~0~

* * *

 **Citadel Tower.**

 **Council Chambers**

Ambassador Donnel Udina accompanied his colleague and trusted mentor, Akuma Ser'aphim, towards the top of the stairs where the three most powerful individuals of the galaxy resided. The Citadel Council, the rulers of Council Space.

And they were not alone. On the petitioning platform of the cavernous Council Chambers stood an alien with a smooth, dark-blue uniform and four, black eyes. His yellow-brown hue appeared oddly shimmering in the light.

The batarian's attention was directed at the Councillors before him and as such, he did not hear the representatives of the United Nations Space Command approach until they were standing right next to him.

Donnel did not even bother glancing at the alien piece of garbage standing there. His mentor, however, seemed to be of a different state of mind. As she walked towards her own petitioning platform, elegant and composed as ever, she glanced at the batarian Ambassador, Lath Vala, with a look that would not be out of place at a Covenant mass grave.

The batarian's mouth contorted into a little smirk. "You kept us waiting," he accused them.

Udina bristled. The nerve of that four-eyed monster!

"Beloved members of the Council," Akuma spoke, ignoring the batarian's snide comment. "I apologize for our late arrival. We had to ensure the actuality of our dossiers, for there were…newcomers…we had to work through."

"Apology accepted, Ambassador Ser'aphim," Tevos gracefully replied. "You have never been delayed before, so we understand this was an exception."

"Now that the human Ambassadors are finally here, we can start," growled Lath Vala. "Two days ago, the batarian colony of Erszbat was laid to waste by the human United Nations Space Command. Displaying a callousness and brutality never seen before in the history of our people, they slaughtered soldier and civilian alike. They leveled our cities, unleashed a horrible chemical attack on innocent people and then detonated not one, not two, but _seven_ nuclear devices in major population centers! The casualties exceed the three hundred thousand!"

"You didn't expect an actual military response?" Sparatus dryly commented.

"Sparatus…not now," said Tevos.

The batarian warily eyed the turian Councilor, before continuing. "Our…yes, the financial damages run into the twelve digits!"

Councilor Tevos nodded. "The Citadel Council calls on Emissary Donnel Udina and Ambassador Akuma Ser'aphim from the United Nations Space Command. Your actions have left many in shock, wondering what your reasons could have been."

Donnel glanced at his mentor. She met his eyes and flashed him a sly smirk, before she took a step forwards and addressed the Council. "Members of the Citadel Council. More than a month back, our people suffered a grave loss. Batarian slavers assaulted our colony of Mindoir, and laid waste to it. Thousands were brutally murdered, even more were taken. Within the history of our people, desecration of the dead has always been considered an atrocious offense. And yet…"

They had carefully rehearsed this meeting and Udina immediately activated his omni-tool. "With your permission, Councilors?"

"Permission granted," said Valern.

With that, Udina plugged his omni-tool into the system. The chamber's enormous holographic projector sprung to life.

"It appeared the slavers possessed no such morality."

Udina selected the first map, containing the pictures of the dead. Though he had seen all of them during his study into the matter, he still winced when the chamber projected them into life size. As the images flashed by, he tried not to pay too much attention to the cruelty shown by the batarian invaders.

The Lamia. The Harpy. The Centaur. Pictures of a survivor, a little Dragon-girl with crippled wings and enough lacerations to kill a soldier. Countless cases of cruelty and wickedness of the most callous order.

Udina studied the reactions of the Council members. He saw Sparatus stiffen and Tevos avert her eyes. He saw Valern lean forwards to study the dozen or so images with keen interest, while Lath Vala kept his face perfectly neutral.

"A tragedy for certain," said the batarian, "but I fail to see how this justifies-"

"I will get to the end of our case even if it kills _you,_ dear Ambassador," Akuma softly spoke, her venom-filled voice instantly silencing the batarian.

With a look of seething anger, Lath Vala remaned quiet.

Akuma continued. "This savage attack left billions crying out for blood. Despite this, we asked of our people to quench their thirst for revenge and stepped to the Council, and rightly so."

Udina joined as well. "This Council granted us access to intelligence reports and case files describing previous incidents…" he shot a glance at the batarian Ambassador. "…of which there was no shortage. With your help, we found out where the slaves were being kept. The UNSC swiftly organized a response team but, due to our lack of Element Zero drives, still took a long time reaching the planet in question. By the time we arrived, the many thousands of abducted civilians had been auctioned away. A mere hundred remained."

Tevos raised her hand. "We understand your motivations. Ambassador Vala, could you explain to us what drew the UNSC to Erszbat?"

The batarian straightened himself and, with surprising calmness for such a bold-faced liar, said, "I have no idea, esteemed members of the Council. The Hegemony had and has no knowledge of human captives. I fear that, unless Ambassador Ser'aphim can produce evidence of her wild claim, this assault on Erszbat must be seen as an act of war."

"Hmm…you are right," Akuma then said. "Donnel?"

Udina smirked and selected the next map. This one contained the helmet footage of one Lieutenant Lilim Shepard, spotting an auction site complete with metal cages.

The human Ambassador made sure to pause the footage at that moment, before speeding it up a little bit. Next, he showed the Council a scene of the Lieutenant fighting a group of children.

Human children.

A soft murmur ran through the Council's ranks as they watched the footage play out. The batarian handlers ordered the children to attack, which they did without hesitation. Through a combination of acrobatics and sheer speed, the Lieutenant managed to incapacitate all of the children without hurting them.

He had seen this footage six times now and he felt just as proud of this soldier as he had the first time he saw her actions.

"The UNSC found these on Erszbat, implanted with neural jacks. They were conditioned to attack us on sight. Together with the three hundred other slaves we found on-world, each of whom we can provide photographic evidence and testimonies for, I believe this constitutes all evidence this Council needs to understand that Erszbat was harboring the slaves taken from Mindoir."

"After all," Akuma continued, smiling politely at the members of the Council, "Our people barely started colonizing the Attican Traverse. Mindoir was the only colony raided. How else would human and Liminal slaves end up on Erszbat?"

"Your case has been made, and clearly so," said Valern. The slarian nodded at his colleagues, before turning to the batarian Ambassador. "Ambassador Vala, would you care to elaborate on your claim that the Hegemony is unaware of such activities?"

Lath Vala took a few moments to recompose himself. "Erszbat is a large planet, Councilor. The Hegemony was unaware of a slave auction."

"The Hegemony unaware of a slave auction?" Sparatus snorted. "Bah. Unlikely."

"I…I fail to understand, Councilor."

Akuma looked very much like a Dragon about to pounce an unsuspecting prey. "Hmm…ah, I almost forgot! Ambassador Vala, if I understand correctly, your presence here and condemnation of our actions depends on the Hegemony being unaware of this slave raid on Mindoir, yes?"

The Ambassador glared at the Elder Devil with such contempt that Udina was tempted to punch him in the chin. "The Hegemony did _not_ support the…unfortunate pirate raid…on your colony, no. That makes the UNSC's intrusion in our system and ravaging of our own world that much worse!"

Akuma mockingly curtsied the batarian in a gesture that only Tevos would recognize as dishonest. "Splendid! Donnel, now is your special moment."

Udina did not hesitate one moment. He opened map three on his omni-tool and his sixth sense for political shitstorms activated. "These are the numbers and casualties from the First-Contact skirmish above Shanxi. As you can see, our local militia and armed civilian did a fine job protecting our land. Now, _here_ you can see the numbers and casualties from the batarian slave raid. I find it awkward that a mere "pirate" raid can outperform an actual military invasion. Would you not agree, Councilor Sparatus?"

"The First-Contact incident?" Tevos said, looking somewhat suspicious. "I fail to see how this is relevant."

The turian Councilor eyed him for a few moments. "The local militia and armed civilians managed to repel multiple military-supported assaults _before_ UNSC reinforcements arrived, yes. I find it hard to believe that this effort could not be reproduced at Mindoir when the pirates landed."

Had he been any other Councilor, facing any other Ambassador or Emissary, Udina would have thought that his comment was an outrage. But, it seemed like they had one friend within this room. "The invaders had access to military gear and supplies that no ordinary pirate gang could have procured."

Lath Vala gripped the podium in front of him with a furious expression. "What are you suggesting, Emissary?"

"I am suggesting, my dear Ambassador, that the Hegemony supplied the slavers with money and supplies. The conflict on Erszbat saw armored fighting vehicles, advanced body armor models and professional soldiers. "

"Hah!" Lath Vala shook his head and presented the Elder Devil with a wicked grin. "This means nothing! Those pirates could have been working for years, stealing and robing where they went! If this constitutes all your evidence, then I would implore the Council to return to the most important issue at hand."

"Hmm…it is not as much the _presence_ of this advanced gear that led the UNSC to this believe, ladies and gentlemen of the Council," Akuma resumed, completely unfazed. "After all, the fleet of twenty vessels that denied the UNSC fleet to even inspect the planet proves that we are dealing with exceptionally well-funded pirates. No, I fear that the captured enemy personnel, all of whom possess many ties to the batarian Hegemony, suggest a close collaboration between the Hegemony and the slavers."

Lath Vala was bristling. "You…"

Without even a hint of fear, the Elder Devil glanced at her batarian "colleague". "This particular moment is referred to as the nail in the coffin, within our speech."

Udina chuckled. "Yes, our Special Forces struck a goldmine when they extracted the batarian official and his associates. We were actually wrapping up the latest bits of intelligence gathered from their underground bunker complex, hence our late arrival."

"Bah! This matters nothing!"

"Oh dear," muttered Akuma. The rest of her sentence went lost as Lath Vala seemed to explode.

"That conflict saw the death of three hundred thousand people, more than half of which were innocent civilians! Even if an illegal slave auction took place there, the war crimes committed during the assault are unforgivable! Chemical attacks, nuclear fire -the UNSC cannot escape justice!"

"I must agree with Ambassador Vala," Tevos then said. "The assault on Erszbat, justified or not, saw a collateral damage and cruelty that has been deemed as excessive at best and unforgiveable at worst. The detonation of these nuclear devices has been reported _after_ the extraction of your assets. They were needless."

Udina felt a stab of uncertainty. How did the Councilor know that? "I…"

"Of course," Akuma warmly said. She smiled at the Councilors with an honesty that unsettled even _him_. "That was the point of deploying them."

"I…I am sorry, what?" Stammered Tevos.

"Explain?" Valern half-asked, half-demanded.

"It was a message, not only to the batarian slavers, but also to the rest of the galaxy. The Covenant is claiming more of our colonies than we can replace in the Attican Traverse. Our people are under siege by a foe powerful enough to rival the collective might of this Council. We cannot afford to dance around with pirates and slavers. The sacking of Erszbat served as a message; the UNSC is willing to treat _any_ attacker of our nation as if they were the Covenant. You see, wise members of the Council, you might call these tactics war crimes. I would agree. Nonetheless, to the Covenant, they are but minor hindrances."

Udina raised his voice as well. "A very wise man once said that, when faced with extinction, every alternative is preferable."

Lath Vala scoffed. "The words of a paranoid and imperialistic nation."

With the utmost patience, Tevos said, "I am aware of the UNSC's circumstances. However, I cannot help but notice that you are not condemning your people's actions, Ambassador Ser'aphim."

Akuma met the asari Councilor's eyes. "You would be correct, Councilor. After all, any person who would try to hurt our people can now safely conclude that we are willing to go to extreme lengths for retaliation. We are facing extinction, Councilor, and we are not going quietly into the night."

Udina felt like Akuma might be going a little too far with antagonizing the Council. For one horrible moment, he felt torn between his duties to the people and the loyalty to his mentor. "However…we…our people would like to see an end to the violence."

"And our people would see justice!" Yelled the batarian Ambassador. "Seven nukes, human! This is nothing compared to the assault on Mindoir!"

Akuma was smiling at the batarian when she replied. "Seven nukes on a world where slaves were trained and auctioned, my dear Vala. In my understanding, this is as grave a defiance of Council laws as employing nuclear devices. _We_ were trying to save our people from a world where every inhabitant was fighting against us. What is your excuse?"

Lath Vala sputtered for a few moments. "The cultural aspects of our society are not the subject here, demon! Three hundred thousand casualties, face that!"

"Devil, Ambassador. Do try to stay civil."

"Enough!" Yelled Tevos. On a softer tone, she continued. "This hostility between the representatives of your races will end now. This Council will take its time to survey all written forms and dossiers. After that, we shall serve as mediators to establish peace between the United Nations Space Command the batarian Hegemony."

Somehow, Udina doubted that would work.

~0~

* * *

Marcus aimed down his sights and shot the Arachne abomination before it could relocate. The creature was fast however, and it hissed at him before dropping his fellow Crusader. It was a long fall from the first floor, but their armor had saved them from worse.

Wounded but still alive, the abomination leapt for him next. But sharp reflexes and years of conditioning allowed Marcus to react with the reflexes he needed to save his life. With the flash of moving steel, he brought his machete up and impaled the creature before it could do any harm.

Its momentum, no longer directed, carried the Knight-Sergeant several meters backwards and he slammed to the ground as the abomination went limp.

The wretched creatures could survive for several minutes with only one heart remaining, but destroy both of them, and even a monster as hardy as an Arachne would perish.

The hardened Templar got back on his feet and pulled his diamond-coated machete out of the abomination's corpse. "That is the last one."

The Arachnera's guards had fought to the bitter end. But the Templars were gifted at making ends so very bitter, and in the end the faithful had prevailed over the wicked. The entrance to their mansion was littered with the corpses of the abominable.

There had been pure men and women among them, as well. Humans who had fought alongside the Arachne guards, willing to lay their lives down to protect the creatures.

Marcus had often wondered why ordinary men and women would do that. Sacrifice themselves for monsters like these…it was nonsensical.

"Milord!"

The Knight-Sergeant turned and looked at the younger Scribe that addressed him. The Crusader quickly gave him a proper salute, pressing his fist against his heart and giving him a short bow.

"What news do you bring me?" Asked Marcus.

"Our Crusaders have managed to cleanse the infestation in the hospital," said the Scribe. "However, Arachne are fast creatures. Some might have escaped."

Marcus scowled. "Might have escaped, Scribe?"

"Yes milord. Our Artisan annihilated many of their warriors, but it's tracking capabilities are limited. As one section of the hospice fell apart, the Artisan moved on to the next."

So he had heard the roar of the gunship's mighty cannons after all. "And thus survivors could have escaped into the countryside?"

"Yes, milord."

"Hmm…I see. Send word to the Lord Major; we shall need more cathars to quarantine the area."

"Thy will be done, milord."

They could not allow a single Black Fang terrorist to escape with their lives; there was no telling what cruelties those vile creatures could inflect on the populace.

The Arachnera Clan had to know that they were under assault by now. Alas; their kind did not understand courage. They would attempt to flee this bloodbath, as they had before.

" _The Angelus is in position. On your command!"_

Knight-Sergeant Marcus allowed grin to play over his features. There would be no escape this time. "Commence the attack. Make them burn."

~0~

* * *

A stressed and hungry Councilor Sparatus sat before the human Emissary Udina, Liminal Ambassador Ser'aphim and batarian Ambassador Vala. "The Council's business with the United Nations Space Command is finished," he started.

"We shall serve the mediation to establish peace between the United Nations Space Command the batarian Hegemony," finished Tevos.

Ambassador Vala cleared his throat, went over his files again and then firmly made his demands. "For the war crimes committed on Erszbat, the Batarian Hegemony demands 2 trillion credits and three examples of working Slipspace engines."

Sparatus flexed his mandibles and shook his head. With that money, the UNSC could build an entire battlegroup. Unmissable against the Covenant. And working Slipspace engines? It was almost as if the Ambassador wanted to use this tragedy for his own gain.

Emissary Udina looked as if he was ready to throttle Lath Vala. His lovely associate, however, kept herself remarkably calm. "I must apologize, Ambassador Vala, but the UNSC _would_ have paid reparations, had our assault been both unjustified and unprovoked. However, as it stands now, neither of these are the case."

"Yes," continued Udina, "We rescued the slaves taken by the slavers, and assaulted only those locations that resisted us. The nukes, the gas, all of it was directed at the slavers."

"And if the Hegemony had no knowledge of these slavers, the UNSC _must_ have done you a service!"

Sparatus had to prevent himself from uttering a triumphant cry; Akuma Ser'aphim was a most shrewd politician.

"We -I, I mean -the Hegemony-"

"As a matter of fact, when the USNC ultimately proves that the Hegemony _was_ behind the attack, it shall be our turn to ask for reparations," Said Udina.

That man was filled with the fire of politics.

"No. No!" Thundered Lath Vala. "You will pay for your crimes, you _must_!"

Tevos frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. Knowing her, she had to be torn between interrupting and waiting it out.

"I wonder how many people down there were in blatant violation of the Council's decree outlawing slavery?" Pondered Ambassador Akuma. "As I see it, either we struck privateers supporting slavery, or we struck the Hegemony supporting slavery."

Had Vala not been in the presence of the Council, he would have most likely assaulted Akuma then and there.

And the crafty Devil knew it. She continued, oh so subtly pressing the batarian's buttons, as if coaxing him into losing his composure and thus his credence. "The slaves would not have been there, had the Hegemony obeyed the law. With that in mind, considering the amount of suffering and damage caused at Mindoir, the United Nations Space Command demands a quarter of a trillion of credits if the Hegemony continues to pursue this matter."

A brazen demand that did not go over with Ambassador Vala well. A low, growling noise escaped past the batarian's lips. "You! How dare you, you two-eyed, winged whore! I'll-!"

"Do _what_ , Ambassador?" Growled Sparatus. "Proceed beyond your first attempt at instigating a political incident and I will personally escort you out of this room."

The batarian sputtered a few times, then glared at him. "We have been members of this Council for centuries! And you will just throw us to these monsters to be trampled? We were nuked! We were gassed! What is to prevent them from taking more of our worlds?"

"How about a lack of slavery in UNSC space!" Udina all but shouted at the batarian Ambassador.

"I second the UNSC's motion," Sparatus then bluntly said. "None of this would have happened if the Batarian Hegemony had outlawed slavery, as per our agreement."

The look on Lath Vala's face was part incredulous, part murderous. " _What?"_

"If the UNSC's research reveals that the Hegemony did in fact support this cases of slavery, I shall third the motion," said Valern.

Tevos sighed with exasperation. "Fine then. It is this Council's decision that we will support the UNSC's claim for reparations should the Batarian Hegemony continue to refer to this incident."

Lath Vala screamed in wordless rage. For one moment, Sparatus tensed up, thinking the Ambassador would assault the UNSC's representatives then and there.

"This blatant case of favoritism is a grave insult to my people! The Hegemony will _close_ its Embassy this day!"

And then he finally left, storming out of the chamber. Sparatus felt elated; he disapproved of the Hegemony's stance and cultural issues just as much, if not more, than the UNSC did. No more would he have to deal with slavers and condone their practices.

Ambassador Ser'aphim sighed. "I hoped that we could _prevent_ our people from ending up in a war with two fronts."

Sparatus scoffed. "He would not dare declare war on the UNSC," he said. "Not openly."

"Councilor Sparatus…" grumbled Tevos. "You and I need to have a talk about _tact_."

"Of course, Councilor Tevos. As soon as we have worked out the details of our agreement with the UNSC."

~0~

* * *

The searchlight shot through the hallway, as if eagerly seeking out new prey to rip apart with a hailstorm of metal. Alan slammed his shoulder against the door, found it to be sturdier than he had expected and staggered backwards, clutching his shoulder.

"Rachnee, the door," he said with remarkable calmness. "Get the door."

With pain in her heart and tears in her eyes, Rachnera pulled herself away from the unspeakable cruelty that was being committed. She fumbled with the door, then proceeded to rip it out of its hinges with ease. Her family had opted to build this place with more wood than metal because Arachne kinds disliked the touch of cold steel…but was that the only reason?

"Quickly."

The two filed through the entrance before the searchlight could catch up with them. They found themselves in a hallway on the first floor, overlooking the atrium of the hospital. There was the exit…as well as the reception, and that cute little gift shop.

Rachnee clutched her mouth. Matsuki lay slumped on the ground, blood dripping from a hole in her head. "No…"

Alan displayed an amazing apathy towards any of this as he ran his hands over the sheets of glass that separated him from the atrium, as if searching for a way to squeeze through.

She glared at the human, wondering at his motivations. He had saved her life, probably twice by now. But he was so…so completely detached from everything that was going on. People had died -good people who didn't deserve to go out like that!

It made her wonder if he was truly trying to get her out of this place alive, or if he was simply using her to escape on his own.

"…need to get down there…" he muttered.

Rachnera wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to stay focused on getting out alive. "There…there is a way around…right _that_ way."

Miller shot her a look. She found it very difficult to hold his gaze, and quickly looked away. There was something about him now that she hadn't seen before…something that really unnerved her.

But she had no other choice than to follow him, and together, they snuck their way through the first floor. Twice they encountered more of the terrorists and twice, they were forced to hide.

The second time however, something went terribly wrong. They had stumbled into one of the larger wards of the hospital, with two rows of nine beds surrounded by curtains. Dead bodies lay sprawled all across the ground in pools of their own blood, their bodies blown open by gunfire. Arachne's, humans, Jorōgumos, it didn't matter. The enemy didn't discriminate.

Alan seemed unbothered by the dead and rushed forwards, but then a pair of the monsters barged into the room from the other end, their flashlights casting grotesque shadows on the walls.

To Rachnera, it seemed like time slowed down. She saw Alan slide towards the ground as in slow-motion, throwing himself amidst the corpses. With one gesture, he brushed his hand across the ground and across his face, smearing it with blood.

All Arachne's had reaction times that were said to be legendary. Apparently, there had to be a sufficiently dangerous situation for them to reach that level. The terrorists slowly ran into the room and Rachnera frantically looked around, searching for a place to hide.

Her lower body was too big, she wouldn't fit in with the dead. She couldn't hide anywhere _logic_.

She wasn't thinking straight; she was a Liminal, there to be an advantage she hadn't seen before.

The searchlight had missed her when she had leapt to the ceiling. Would that same trick work again?

Not enough time. She had to go for it.

Rachnera quickly pounced at the ceiling above and held on for dear life, praying that the monsters wouldn't look up.

They didn't. Instead, they aimed their weapons at the corpses on the ground and started shooting them. Each and every time they fired their guns, a tremor ran through her body. The two of them worked with a morbid efficiency; each of them taking one side and then working through the bodies one shot to the head at a time.

Even their pace was even. Who the fuck were these people?

She felt her dread increase with each and every shot that took the terrorists closer and closer to where Alan had hidden. _Playing dead won't help_ , she thought. _Notice it! Hide, run, anything!_

It was no use. The two slowly came closer to the small heap of bodies that Alan was using to hide himself. He was lying _so_ close to the small desk next to the bed, he could try to side underneath the bed, or even hide behind the curtain!

As the two terrorists came closer, Rachnera caught a glimpse of their armor. It looked military, but then white instead of the green that the UNSC always went for. Their helmets had a red emblem at the top that she didn't immediately recognize, but she was sure that it was some sort of logo.

They were so close that she could feel the gunshots rumbling through the ceiling. One was right below her, too. If he looked up…

Alan burst into movement. He leapt for the nearest terrorist, holding something that briefly reflected the light from the flashlight as it passed over him.

The terrorist cried in surprise when Alan stabbed him with the tool right below his helmet, where his throat would be. His buddy raised his gun-

And Rachnera dropped down from the ceiling, leaping for the man before he could shoot. She grabbed a hold of his weapon with both hands and pulled it free, throwing it to some corner of the room.

The man's arm snapped out and caught her in her face with a gauntleted first. White spots exploded behind her eyes and she cried out in pain, reeling backwards. The man grabbed her by her throat, and she could feel his armored fingers digging deep into her skin.

"A fiery fate awaits you and the rest of you monsters," he growled at her, putting more pressure on her throat.

Rachnera choked a cry that went unheard and instinctively grabbed the man's fist, trying to pull him off.

In response, he squeezed even harder, and her vison began to flicker.

Frantically, Rachnera lashed out with her free arm. Her clawed fingers raked the man across his visor and it shattered inwards, sending a dozen pieces of plastic flying into his face.

The terrorist screamed and clutched his face with both hands. Rachnera made a fist, but she hesitated, not so much because she didn't know where to hit him, but also because she had never purposely hurt anyone before. How would she-

Alan grabbed the man from behind and buried something that looked suspiciously like a scalpel into his throat, after which he violently pulled it out again and stabbed him again.

"Alan, stop!" Rachnera cried out.

He didn't; he buried the weapon a third time into the man's throat and then jerked it sideways, carving through clothing and skin like and splitting his throat open.

"Stop!" she reached out and grabbed his wrist, but her claws accidentally dug into his skin and tore into his flesh.

The boy immediately dropped the improvised weapon.

Rachnera gasped and immediately jerked her arm back, hiding her bloody claws as if that could undo what she had just done. "I'm…I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-!"

She never meant to, but she always did. She was fourteen and she couldn't even control her own body. She _hated_ it.

Alan clutched his bleeding wrist with his other hand, but he didn't say anything. He just shook his head and grabbed one of the fallen guns, slinging it over his shoulder with the elastic bands attached to them.

Rachnera looked around the room. "You…you killed them." They had deserved it, definitely, but…but to actually _stab_ them to death like that, no hesitation at all!

What sort of person did that?

"I had to." His voice was like a whisper, ragged and quiet. "They were in the way."

Shouts sounded from the hallway they had just left, and Rachnee threw a hurt expression towards the boy. "I don't want…I can't do this…"

"Almost there. Come on, we're almost out of here."

Clutching the rifle with bloodied fingers, Alan led the way to the exit of this slaughterhouse. They really were almost there; the atrium was just ahead, with only a little staircase in their way.

The double set of doors were wide open. Never before had the forest that lay between the hospital and her parents' mansion been so amazing to see. Just a dozen or so meters and they were safe.

As it turned out though, it wasn't that simple. The moment they set foot outside the hospital, they were spotted by the pair of terrorists who had been _waiting_ for someone to try and run.

It was only because of her raging adrenaline and Arachne reflexes that Rachnee could avoid their bursts of fire, all of which were aimed at her.

She saw one of the terrorists point towards something large and white that looked vaguely human, but much wider and higher, with only a single red eye.

She saw the robot-thing point one of its arms at her, like it was pointing a gun at her as well.

And she saw Alan running off without her, using the time that everybody took shooting at her to flee.

Rachnee wanted to scream at him, beg him not to abandon her, but she only had the time to jump back into the hospital and take cover there before the large white robot started shooting as well. Just like the thing that had been flying around the hospital. The stream of bullets absolutely levelled the atrium, shredding the doors and ripping through the walls.

The two terrorists started shooting at her cover as well and one of them managed to hit her in her. The bullet blew through her upper arm and came out the other side. The entire limb went numb, but that lasted for a split-second before a terrible pain shot through her arm, which quickly spread across her entire body.

Rachnera screamed in pain and clutched the bleeding limb, ducking down even lower to avoid catching more bullets.

The white robot came closer and closer, leisurely walking towards her while blowing away what little protection she had.

Rachnera closed her eyes and tried to steady her trembling arm. Was she going to die here? Alone, murdered by terrorists just as she was about to escape? It wasn't fair!

The robot came closer and closer, to the point that it was slowly walking up the steps towards the entrance. She was just about to try and make a run for it in one of the intervals of it shooting at her, when a massive, heavy-looking ambulance rammed into it, crushing its shining armor and sending it flying off.

It was one of their off-road ambulances, designed like the military jeep. There was a big dent in the rear bumper and a crack ran across the window.

The driver popped the door to the passenger seat, even as the terrorists started shooting the armored ambulance.

"Get on," said Alan.

Rachnee couldn't believe her eyes. He had returned? For her? Why?

More bullets impacted against the side of the ambulance and his window cracked, too.

Whether he had abandoned her or not, Rachnera wanted to live. She made a break for the ambulance and Alan put the pedal to the metal the moment she leapt at its side.

The ambulance awkwardly swerved around the two terrorists, one of whom was reloading while the other kept shooting. In the distance, all the way behind the forest, large plumes of black smoke were reaching high in the sky.

Apparently it was dangerous to keep such a lofty vehicle on the right track. That, or Alan had no idea what he was doing. The ambulance scraped against one of the trees and it knocked off one of their mirrors.

Rachnera breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the doomed hospital rapidly disappear behind her. She looked at her wounded arm, which was still heavily bleeding.

Her mother had once told her that she could use her silk to stop bleeding and clean the wound, because Arachne silk was anti…antiscep…

She couldn't remember the word, but Arachne silk helped fight against infection, so she quickly used the spinnerets in her wrists to weave a web that she could use like gauze, sealing off the wound.

The ambulance swerved again and she increased her grip on the vehicle with her lower body, digging deep into its frame with her sharp legs.

She heard the whirling blades and roaring engine of a large aircraft and she glanced over her shoulder

An attack helicopter, like the one in the action movies, was racing after their ambulance. The trees underneath it wobbled dangerously as it passed over and its dark-blue cockpit seemed nigh-invisible, what with the massive searchlight mounted underneath it.

"Helicopter!" Shouted Rachnera.

"Get inside the ambulance," came the reply.

She didn't need to be told twice; she quickly adjusted her grip on the vehicle and, using her pedipalps, ripped the metal door in the back open.

Her smaller size finally granted her an advantage, as she was able to squeeze herself in the back of the vehicle as they raced across the sandy grounds of the forest. It was filled with medical supplies, but Rachnee knew that they wouldn't be of any use to them. A single shot of that heli had nearly ripped Eleena in half.

Her stomach clenched at the memory and she clenched her fists. There had to be _something_ she could do!

The helicopter opened fire. Its massive guns cut trees in half, sheared off branches with near misses and kicked up massive clouds of dirt that would have made it impossible to track the thing, had it not constantly been aiming its searchlight at them.

It wasn't like in those movies, where the hero could dodge the shots with precise, if narrow maneuvers with his car. There wasn't any dodging to be done; the bullets travelled much too fast for that. A burst tore through the roof of the armored ambulance, sheared through the cupboard with supplies and exited through the bottom again, leaving holes the size of Rachnee's head.

She backed up as far as she could, but there wasn't any room to spare.

The helicopter stopped firing its guns. Somehow, Rachnera didn't think that was a good thing.

"What's it doing?" She cried. Damnit, even talking loudly made her arm hurt! At least it wasn't bleeding anymore.

Alan jerked at the wheel and narrowly managed to avoid one of the rocks. The air was growing thick with the pungent stench of smoke.

The heli gained altitude. Large fumes of smoke burst from its wings. Rachnera gasped as a dozen missiles streaked towards the ambulance, a split-second before they impacted and everything went black.

If only it had stayed black. Perhaps it had been for the better if she had lost her consciousness then and there, because when she woke up, she found herself in a landscape so hellish that she almost lost the will to continue then and there.

The forest was a sea of fire. Trees had been molten, the grass was burning and the ambulance was on _fire_.

Alan was nowhere to be found.

Rachnera groaned and crawled back to her feet. Everything hurt, and it wasn't hard to see why. Her clothes had been mostly burned away and her human skin had patches that were charred-

She took a closer look at her wounds and weakly groaned when she saw that she didn't just have burns, but that patches of her skin were actually _molten_. It didn't even hurt that much, but it was horrendous to even look at.

What the fuck had the terrorists _used_? The _ground_ was burning, there were flames where there shouldn't even _be_ flames!

She blinked a few times and shook her head. She still had hair…and her exoskeleton had saved her from the worst of the burns.

She was exhausted. Her arm hurt, her skin itches and ached and she felt like she was about to keen over.

Yet, despite the absolute hell that the forest had been turned into, she felt a strange calmness within her. The Rachnera mansion was very close by and she just needed to get there alive. One more effort…one more effort.

Wounded and in pain, the young Arachne staggered away from the melting ambulance, alternating between breathing through her abdomen and breathing through her mouth. The air smelled like burning plastic and…and seared flesh.

It was disgusting and _wrong_ and despite her exhaustion, the stench made her retch.

"Alan…" she gasped. She half expected the Miller boy appear from behind one of the skeletal, burning trees, or just…just behind her or something. But he didn't; the forest remained a silent, burning wasteland.

And she was alone.

~0~

* * *

 **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: SPECIES: ARACHNE**

 _The Arachne are a demi-human Liminal race with the upper body of a human and the lower body of a spider. Physically strong and fast, they are most noted for being able to create a silk that is five times stronger than steel and twice as elastic as nylon. In combat positions, Arachne species are known as hard-hitting and fast-moving combatants, capable of rapidly traversing the battlefield with their powerful legs while dodging enemy fire with their superior reaction time and reflexes._

 _Despite their potency in combat positions, Arachne are often hated and feared by humans due to their instinctive and primal reaction to normal spiders, which the Arachne so greatly resemble. This evolutionary conditioning is difficult to overcome, and often regarded as the most important cause of discrimination and hate-acts against the Arachne Clans._

 _~0~_

 _ **AN:**_ _what, you didn't think I'd just let humanity gain something from their endless conflicts without having them also lose something, did you?_

 _Anyway, more than 400 followers? You guys are awesome._


	8. 1,5: Daily life with war heroes

_**AN:**_ _Yes I know, still a distinct lack of romance, humor and Master Chief. We're almost there; the backstories of the harem needed fleshing out and the universe needed building. Still, we can put an end to the dark and grittiness that has been plaguing us for so many chapters. So for now, a return to the roots._

~0~

* * *

 **Attican Traverse**

 **Asari Republics Colony**

 **Citadel Standard Calendar: 2170**

Inside the CIC of the _Republic's Sword,_ Asari Captain Valari K'Sona was eagerly awaiting the strange vessel's reappearance. An unidentified alien ship had been spotted near Recluse, one of their smaller colonies in the Traverse. It had been detected by a listening station, but by the time Valari had organized her battlegroup to investigate it, it had vanished.

Reinforcements were days away.

"There," said her communications officer, Aleri. "It's there again."

Captain K'Sona quickly ran up to the Maiden's screen and looked at what she had. It was displaying convoluted radar signals, but one little blip stood out in particular. "Is it the same?" She demanded.

The officer took another good look at the screen. "It has to be."

K'Sona shook her head. "Sixty million kilometres away…"

They could cross that distance by engaging their FTL, but that would leave them blind and directionless for the travel period. If the unidentified ship was really what she feared it was, they would be charging straight into a killzone.

No, better to stay at their post. "We're not going to risk it. We stay here and let it come to us."

"I still don't get the point," said her navigational officer. "It's just a ghost signature. We're in the middle of the Attican Traverse!"

"So?" Countered the gunnery officer.

"So, there's nothing out there that puts Recluse at risk. Batarians or pirates would have been recognized immediately."

"That's enough," said the Captain. "Have you read human history, Naseenta?"

The gunnery officer shrugged. "No point. They're humans. What's important about them?"

Captain K'Sona gritted her teeth. _Maidens…_ "If you _had_ read history, Naseenta, you would have known that the UNSC's very first contact with the Covenant occurred at extreme range when a ghost signature appeared near one of their outer colonies."

"I…" Naseenta fell quiet. "Goddess, you think-"

"I'm not thinking anything, I'm just saying. The First-Contact Skirmish between the Turians and the UNSC was a disaster for the Hierarchy. And the Covenant routinely appears at human colonies and destroys _everything_ in their path. We can't risk it."

"Wait," Aleri sharply said. All blood drained from her face as she said, "I read that report before graduating. The Covenant ship appeared at extreme range, but then they were suddenly at point blank range!"

The radar screen flashed with alarm as the _Sword's_ sister ship, the _Eternal Sunrise,_ suddenly broadcasted on the emergency channel. " _Contact! We have hostile contact! It's four-thousand kilometres off our prow, we need-"_

The _Sunrise's_ transmission turned from frantic screaming to unintelligent screaming, which lasted for two whole seconds before the transmission was suddenly cut off.

"The _Eternal Sunrise_ is gone," yelled one of her navigators. "We lost her!"

Captain K'Sona swallowed. "All hands to combat stations," she said, her voice ice-cold. "Prepare to engage our enemy. Defend our colony!"

Their Frigate shot towards the _Sunrise's_ last location, but they didn't even manage to reach FTL before the ship suddenly lurched to a sharp halt.

The cause sent shivers down K'Sona's spine. The screens flashed with blobs of green energy and the energy readings went crazy. Space around them boiled and warped and something appeared five-hundred kilometres away, right in front of them.

Appeared out of nowhere.

"New contact cut off our route!" Yelled Naseenta. "Two-hundred mete- three hun- eight hund- _Goddess!"_

"What is it?" K'Sona all but yelled at the Maiden.

The girl turned to face her with a mortified expression. "Target is five kilometres long, Captain! It's _them_! We're all going to die!"

The Captain took one look at the screen. The ship was massive. Absolutely humongous. Its front looked like the bulbous head of a sea-creature, but the rest of its silhouette was sleek.

Years of training and discipline prevented K'Sona from panicking. "Get back to your seat Naseenta! That's an order! Aleri, power down! Power everything down, go dark!"

But even as she gave that order, the massive Dreadnaught opened fire. The only thing that visibly happened was that several beams of brilliant white light sprang from its side, but in an instant, the single Cruiser that had been functioning as their deterrent against pirate raids went up in a ball of fire.

Along three of its escort Frigates.

Utterly annihilated.

Even as the entire _Republic's Sword_ powered dark, K'Sona desperately tried to think of a way to win this. She had to; there were three million people living on Recluse!

Five kilometres…it was more than thirty times their size and could strike its targets at what had to be the speed of light. Even as other Frigates tried to speed around it, using their superior FTL to gain distance, other ships speared them from other positions. More appeared on screen, teleporting out of nowhere. "Small" ones at less than a Citadel kilometre in size, but also larger ones that reached up to the ten, twelve times the length of their Frigate.

Massive projectiles fired by some sort of directed energy weapon actively pursued fleeing Frigates and in one meagre minute, almost the entire defending battlegroup had been destroyed.

The massive Dreadnaught hadn't moved. Blue flashes flickered along the hull of the enemy ship and all screens went dead. A hundred automated alarms blared through the _Sword's_ interior for two agonizing seconds.

K'Sona didn't even get the chance to scream as the CIC was incinerated in a series of thundering explosions, followed by the rest of the _Republic's Sword._

…

Aboard the Covenant Assault Carrier _Cleansing Justice,_ Fleet Master Toza Zudamee of the Fleet of Righteous Vigilance watched the tiny vessel disintegrate under a barrage of pulse lasers.

No piece of debris larger than a Banshee was allowed to exist.

The wretched creatures had thought that their vessel could have escaped his Carrier's cleansing gaze. Foolish.

"These creatures are barely worthy the hunt," said his eldest bridge officer, Tano. "Our shields are at ninety-five percent. Fully regenerated now."

The projectile weapons had barely touched them. "Pathetic. Have our salvage craft search through their wreckages. The Holy One desires their secrets, all of them."

The Prophet of Conviction had been clear; these races, whatever their origins, stood in the way of the Great Journey. They had been found guilty of hiding human worlds, as well as the Secrets of the Ancients.

It was a strange thing. The High Council had long been aware of the existence of a large civilization such as theirs, but they had never deemed it worth their time to interact with it.

Zudamee clicked his lower mandibles -the equivalent of a shrug- and banished the thoughts from his mind. His position was not to question; the Prophets will would be done. To consider anything else was a disgraceful dereliction of duty. "Their defences are gone. Their planet lies defenceless, Exalted One."

The Holy One, the Prophet of Conviction, floating next to Zudamee performed a delicate gesture with his wrist. "Bath their world in fire, Fleet Master. Too long has this…Citadel Collective…been an affront to our Covenant."

Fleet Master Zudamee glanced at the Prophet. A tall, ornate headpiece made out of metal and gemstones was set upon his triangular head, only barely supported by his serpentine neck. There was no malice in his eyes; only a cold disdain for this new enemy.

His bright, blue eyes met Zudamee's and the Sangheili quickly averted his gaze. He would not dare insult his Superior.

So he activated FLEETCOM and gave the order to cleanse the world. The Gods were to be satisfied by the death of another civilization, then so be it.

~0~

* * *

 **Citadel Standard Calendar: 2170**

 _All contact is lost with Asari colony Recluse._

 _Asari Republic reinforcements arrive in-system several days later,_

…

Matriarch Elduna checked her sensors again and again, to no avail. She demanded of her crew to verify their coordinates, ordered them to triple-check their readings. She was even as willing as to believe that they had someone ended up in human space. These things didn't happen to their civilization, to their lush and beautiful worlds.

The crew of the Dreadnaught _Book of Souls_ checked their screens time and time again, but the numbers checked out. They had truly arrived at Recluse, yet they also hadn't. The majestic world was gone. The Matriarch watched with silent, abject horror as she beheld what was left of the prestigious colony.

Gone were the beautiful fields of red and green flora. Gone were the bright oceans, teeming with life. Their immense cities, the impressive architecture, all was dashed to the winds.

A cratered, barren desert was the most intact thing that remined of the planet. The rest was just…glass. Red, glowing glass that faintly reflected thin, grey sunlight.

The Matriarch felt her eyes sting. Tears streamed down her cheeks even as her communications officer opened a superluminal link to Councillor Tevos.

…

 _After an emergency meeting, Councillor Tevos contacts UNSC Rear Admiral Steven Hackett for tactical advice._

 _Hackett suggests that the Citadel races fully mobilize and prepare for total war. The Cole Protocol is offered for distribution among the Citadel Council._

 _Councillor Valern votes against the usage of the Cole Protocol, stating that Salarian counter-intelligence is competent enough. Councillor Tevos agrees with the notion, and disagrees with the suggestion of war._

 _The Council votes against total mobilization and bolsters its defences instead._

 _~0~_

* * *

 **Citadel Standard Calendar: 2171**

 _Councillor Sparatus adopts the Cole Protocol in secret._

 _A massive joint Turian-Asari fleet is assembled at Recluse, anticipating Covenant reinforcements._

 _~0~_

* * *

 **Citadel Standard Calendar: 2174**

 _After having failed to reappear at Recluse, another Covenant fleet drops out of Slipspace near the Asari colony Cilindrias._

 _Cilindrias requests reinforcements upon noticing the sudden arrival of seventeen unidentified vessels._

 _Eleven hours after contact, all contact with Cilindrias is lost_

 _~0~_

* * *

 **Citadel**

 **Presidium**

 **Citadel Standard Calendar: 2175**

 **UNSC Military Calendar: 2544**

Decian Chellick stood in front of the door of the door of the head of Citadel Security, Executor Venari Pallin. The liaison between the Citadel Council and C-Sec, the boss of all Turians on the Citadel.

The man he needed to justify his actions to.

Chellick swallowed a lump in his throat and moved to fumble with the door-knob. His hand slapped against the smooth frame of the door, uselessly.

Doors on the Citadel didn't have door-knobs. He had forgotten that.

Door-knobs hadn't been used in two-hundred years. He had forgotten that too.

The young detective shook his head and tried to even out his breathing _. Calm thoughts_ , he told himself. _Calm thoughts; it's not like your future on the Citadel Security forces is at risk._

Except it was.

Calm thoughts.

Chellick stepped inside the office and saluted his boss. "Executor Pallin."

The Executor gave him an odd look. "Sit down, detective. Chellick, you and I need to talk."

Chellick nervously sat down in the chair offered to him. "Yes Executor."

The head of S-Sec activated his omni-tool and "flicked" a series of files to Chellick's, which pulsated with a faint orange glow to show that it had received something. "Your support of the Liminal members in C-Sec is quite noticeable, detective. I know that Councillor Sparatus himself approved of the notion, but few Turians support the idea of hiring Liminal species. Why do you?"

Chellick nodded weakly, knowing that it was time to shine or fall and break his neck. He hoped metaphorically. "I was assigned to the group testing them, Pallin. Physically, the candidates are among the most impressive I have ever seen. Almost all of them are stronger than the Krogan and as fast as the Drell."

The Executor crossed his arms. "Somehow, I doubt that. But, you've been working with them and I have not. So tell me…these applicants, why should I pass by disciplined and loyal Turian candidates for UNSC ones?"

"I was doubtful too, at first. These files you sent me, the dossiers of the candidate? Let me…let me work through some of them. I have performance vids."

Pallin nodded, and the detective took his time opening up the vid of the Long Leg breed Arachne, Azlin. "Candidate Azlin, tasked with pursuing a duo of fleeing suspects. Served seven years in a security department in a major colony."

The Executor patiently watched the vid as it played, his face betraying no emotion whatsoever as the candidate hunted down and incapacitated the two running Turians in a span of ten seconds.

"I fail to see how-"

Chellick played the next section of the vid, and again the Executor patiently watched it play. "She let the runners get to their escape vehicle?" He asked with clear annoyance.

"A part of her test, Pallin. And believe me, it was _hard_."

"Running down a speeding aircar…yes, I can imagine it was hard."

"I think you misunderstand me. _Waiting_ was hard for her, the actual running-down wasn't."

"What?"

The vid continued playing, showing how the Arachne proceeded to chase down the speeding aircar within a minute, before literally jumping it and forcing it into an emergency landing that would look suspiciously like a crash landing to anyone else. Again, she apprehended the suspects within seconds after their clumsy attempt at a continued escape on foot.

This time, the Executor watched with keen interest. "She took down an aircar on foot?" He asked. "Impressive."

Pallin meant it, which was a major relieve for Chellick's rapidly-beating heart. "She can scale all obstacles in her way, including buildings. Her mobility is near-limitless. There is just one problem…"

"Yes?"

The vid finished with the Long Leg having forced both of the crooks to the ground. She was about to handcuff them when something outside the camera's field of view caught her attention, and she immediately went after a different quarry.

Leaving the two suspects unbound and without supervision.

The last few moments of the vid, the cameraman started giving chase to the now-free suspects.

"Long Leg Arachnes have an amazing hunting instinct," Chellick started explaining. "They are predators, immediately triggered by fleeing prey. It's a part of their instinct. Most, if not _all_ members of their race _need_ to hunt."

Pallin clicked with his mandibles. "That would make for excellent deputies."

"That's true. Their…Arachne equivalent of muscles are powerful enough for them to hunt down pretty much anyone and anything they want. But their hunting instinct is also their weakness."

"That failure at the end…don't tell me-"

"Whenever they catch their prey, they are immediately triggered by new a new one. If a Long Leg Arachne spots a new criminal, he or she _must_ give chase. Azlin for example is still learning to handcuff the suspects before hunting down new ones. It's why this test was so difficult for her. Watching the suspects make a run for it and having to _wait_ to give chase? That took all the discipline the past few weeks drilled into her."

Pallin sighed and shook his head. "Fantastic. Recruits that are _too_ motivated. I'll think her over. What about the rest of the candidates?"

Chellick searched his dossier for the second file Pallin had sent him, the Hornet-Girl. "Kira, three years of military experience. She can fly, her exoskeleton makes her resistant to small-arms weapons even _without_ kinetic barriers. It covers her fingers too, so she can tear through solid metal without hinder."

"Another lethal monster-soldier. So what's her problem?"

Executor Pallin had been serving with C-Sec for more than twenty years. He was known as an absolute veteran with an almost infallible judgement. So when he immediately deduced that this applicant had some problems standing in the way of employment, Chellick wasn't even surprised.

"Police brutality, mostly. The main species, the ehm…the Honey Bee, I believe, is docile. Only aggressive when provoked. The Hornet species, or the Killer-Hornets, are named after one of the most feared indigenous life forms on Earth. That should give you an idea, sir."

The Executor clicked with his mandibles in annoyance. "Need I remind you, detective, that all officers _must_ represent C-Sec as a whole? That each member of our branches must be able to act as if they were serving the Citadel Council directly? We don't need killers, nor do we need anything with the word "killer" in it."

Chellick nodded. "Of course. I'll remove her from the list in an instant-"

"I didn't say that. Place her on the Special Responses team."

The young detective stared at his boss for a few moments, not sure if he had understood that order properly. "I…sure. Right away."

Pallin nodded, apparently satisfied. "So, who's next?"

Chellik checked his files again. "Helia, the Salamander. Served four years as a demolitions expert."

"Another species named after "indigenous lifeforms"?" Asked the Executor. The detective detected a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

Still, Chellick couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Of course," he replied.

"Good. I was starting to wonder-"

"Most of them are."

The Executor fell quiet for a few moments, staring at Chellick. "Just…just get it on, detective."

"Sir. Now, the Salamander species is an impressive one. She proved to be completely immune to fire."

"What," said Pallin. "Immune to fire? Just like that?"

"I know, it's odd. Incineration tech stunned her, but it didn't harm her. Flames merely tickle her, heating the air only makes her more energetic. Their ability to withstand heat is invaluable in the Human-Covenant war. They can withstand multiple plasma impacts before getting hurt. Apparently, they can even regrow lost limbs."

The Executor looked at him with an incredulous expression. "Is this a joke?"

Chellick shook his head. "According to Ambassador Akuma, that the UNSC would offer C-Sec the services of a Salamander is a great honor. They need _all_ Salamander individuals in the war."

Pallin slowly nodded, probably realizing that rejecting such a great honor would be an insult to the UNSC. "Immune to fire…how does that even work?"

Chellick shrugged. "Monster magic? Can't say. They're probably still thinking the same about Biotics."

"Point taken. Who's next?"

Chellick opened his next file. "Ah, Mannison. The Empusa. Served eighteen months as a regular. Here. As you can see, her natural weapons are as effective as Kira's, with more than double the reach."

"Swords, Chellick," Pallin said softly. "The girl's got swords for arms."

"Technically, that would be one of our other applicants. These are more like razors with barbs. As with the Killer-Hornet, she is covered with a natural exoskeleton protecting her from small-arms fire and bladed weapons in important regions. She has normal arms to manipulate weapons and equipment, too. It's her second set of arms that makes her special."

Pallin's voice was a whisper when he asked, "Show me."

And Chellick delivered. He showed his boss a vid of Mannison sparring with three Turians and a human, at the same time. With carefully-timed strikes and kicks, the girl easily broke through her opponents' defences, using her second set of limbs only to block. She displayed an effective, if strange form of combat art, using all four of her arms independently of each other, yet never failed to guard herself.

"The second set of arms can fold inwards to pin opponents down nonlethally. It's impossible to escape her grip without tearing yourself to pieces in the process. Her eyes allow her to perceive each and every opponent in a wide radius around her, at the same time."

"How strong is she?"

"During the Sacking of Erszbat, Empusa combatants easily ripped through military-grade heavy hardsuits. They're strong, Pallin. Stronger…"

"…than the Krogan. I think I'm starting to see why you like them so much. Why _Sparatus_ likes them so much."

Chellick nervously coughed. "Yes. Of course. That is…precisely…why I like them so much. Yes. Next?"

Pallin nodded. "Next."

"In the same category as the Empusa, we have the Kamai…the Kama…" Chellick reread the page and then frowned. "The Kamaitachi. My apologies, it is a different name to pronounce. Shiho, our Kamaitachi applicant, showed the most discipline of all applicants thus far. She is calm, collected and works well under pressure."

Pallin looked at her performance vid, then sighed. "So does _she_ have swords on her arms?"

"Sickles, technically. But they function like swords. I still have _no_ idea how her race ever evolved like this, but it did. She has sickles growing out of her arms and she can use them _well_. Shiho showed a restraint we haven't seen in the other applicants. I think she would be excellent leader material."

Pallin nodded. "Noted. Test her in live-fire exercises, actually stress-inducing scenarios. She needs to be ready to take down drunk Asari maidens."

"Of course, I'll give the word."

"The next applicant?"

Chellick saw that his boss was getting eager now. Good; S-Sec could use some heavy-hitters. Poor Officer Lang had yet to recover from that Krogan shoplifter. "Less natural weapons, more brawn. An subset of the Ogre species, the Oni."

Pallin observed the file for a few moments, looking at the red-skinned human-like man with small horns sticking out of his skull. "Is he usually this cheerful?"

"Not this usually. He just wrestled down an Elcor, hence the big grin."

Pallin nearly fell out of his chair.

"Now, Theodore is two meters of pure, honest brawn. He's only been a Marine for a year. Still a rookie. He's not smart and he's a bad shot, but if you put a drunk Krogan in front of him, he'll fight for three hours and brag about his victory as he drags it back to his office."

"Is his stamina that impressive?"

"Stamina, endurance, physical strength. All Liminals are exceptionally strong, but the Ogre species are a special case. That Elcor punted him down a three-story building and it only riled him up. He'll make an excellent officer on the street."

"Discipline?"

Chellick winced. "His officers never managed to beat it into his skull. I assume it too thick."

"Bah…put him on the list. I'll interview him myself. Next?"

"Tia, the Serket girl. She's…a special case,"

"Another special case?"

Chellick loaded her file. Executor Pallin, who had dealt with some of the nastiest people on the Citadel, flinched when he saw her. "Spirits…"

"Yeah, I had that same reaction. She ehm…the humans named her race after one of their ancient Goddesses who was often depicted as an indigenous lifeform they call a "scorpion". The humans…generally avoid contact with these "scorpions."

"By the Spirits…just how many of these Liminals are named after natural killers and monsters?" Demanded Pallin.

Chellick shrugged. "I asked myself that question too. My colleague proposed a different question. How many Liminals are _not_ named after natural killers and monsters? The answer…well, very little."

"Why…why would I let such a monstrous creature walk around the Citadel?" Snapped Pallin. "Chellick, this is where I draw the line! Look at her! That tail-"

"Possesses a powerful neurotoxin, the quantity of which she can regulate herself," Chellick quickly said.

"I beg your pardon?"

Good. He had the Executor's attention now. "Not only is her entire lower body covered with that remarkable exoskeleton, making her even more durable than the other applicants, but her stinger contains a powerful neurotoxin. When she stings, she can decide how much venom she wants to inject. She can probably kill a berserking Battlemaster in half a minute, or she can temporarily stun an Asari Maiden for the better part of the day."

Pallin sighed and placed his hand on his forehead. "There's probably some department where a creature like her can…function…but I cannot in good conscience let a monster like her walk around the Citadel. We are supposed to protect the people, Chellick. Hiring such creatures…no, I don't think it would be good for C-Sec."

The detective struggled to hide his disappointment; he would feel a lot saver in the line of duty if he could work alongside creatures like her. It didn't matter how many centuries it took; the animosity between the Krogan and the Turians would never disappear.

And there were a _lot_ of Krogan on the Citadel, legal or otherwise.

"I understand, Pallin."

The Executor merely grunted in response. "Do you have more on the list, or…?"

"Yes. Two more, in fact. The first is a Kobold, Yonna. I think she would make an amazing detective; her scent of smell is easily a thousand times more powerful than that of the average human."

Pallin leant back in his chair. "A thousand times better? She could track down suspects in a heartbeat…what else is there in her record?"

"Not much in terms of durability or endurance; she's average. Fitter than most Turians, however. She loves exercise."

Nodding, Pallin said, "Yes, such sharp senses would definitely be an asset for the hunt for the Red Sand dealers. I'll put her on the list for further testing. And the last one?"

"Compared to the last ones? Nothing too special. Viridia, a subspecies of the Harpy race."

The Executor grunted. "Harpies…I've dealt with those before. Damn things always get lost wherever they go. Allowing those creatures into their military structure…the Generals in the UNSC's armies must be really desperate."

Chellick didn't doubt that the Generals were desperate. A human friend of his had told him that most of the original Outer Colonies had been destroyed years ago. Hundreds of thousands of their people were dying every day. "They can fly, sir. No sentient species associated with the Citadel can fly. It's an asset."

"I don't need officers who forget how to use a gun every two steps, Chellick. If you're done-"

"Not yet, Pallin. Raptor Harpies are…different."

The Executor clicked with his mandibles as he gestured for Chellick to play the next file. "How so?"

"They ehm…their memory isn't nearly as bad as the normal Harpies. In addition, Viridia played an important role as a combat scout during her time with the military."

The vid containing the Raptor's combat tests started playing. It detailed the girl navigating a convoluted obstacle course with live-fire exercises. It didn't take long for her to show her extraordinary abilities; she easily dodged the obstacles, kept a cool head in the face of barrages of gunfire and nailed the dummy targets that had been set up for her.

"No hardsuits were used on the dummies, of course," said Chellick. "Those claws of her would rip them to shreds. Powerful muscles, too. You've never been seriously kicked unless a Harpy knocked you on your can."

"Hmm…we could definitely use a more mobile unit. Aircars only get you so far…tell me Chellick, are these "Raptor Harpies" named after any indigenous lifeforms as well? C-Sec can't deliver its message of protection if their members are species named after highly-dangerous animals."

The detective felt his mandibles twitch with anxiety. "I…well…"

~0~

* * *

 **Five years after the Sacking of Erszbat**

 **11:15 Hours, August 14, 2544 (Military Calendar) / Skyllian Verge, Vetus system, Elysium, capital city Illyria**

The cloudless blue sky of Elysium stretched as far as the eye could see. The air was heavy with the sweet scent of fresh fruits and bread, lush foliage and the salty breeze of the sea. The waves calmly rolled over the blue surface of the water, washing over the white beaches moments later.

And Elysium's sun, Vetus, shined ever so brightly. Its warm rays reflected off of the endless body of the sea, warming the groups of Mermaids and Sirens and Scylla's that were enjoying their free time in the water.

But the thing about Elysum that Corporal Miia Lucifinae loved the most, was its sun. It warmed the lonely life-bearing planet around its orbit to an almost loving degree. Vetus had turned Elysium into a paradise, where humans and Liminals could live together in peace. No Templar or Black Fang terrorists, no fear of Covenant attacks. In the Skyllian Verge, they were safe.

Elysium was Miia's very first shore leave. She had been very nervous about coming here at first; according to Commander Keyes, her current CO, civilians in the Skyllian Verge didn't take kindly to soldiers in their midst. Bad omens, presumably.

But she saw none of that supposed hostility; the people here were simply having too much fun to pay attention to the redheaded Echidna Marine in their midst. Swimming trunks, cold beverages and lounge chairs were much more preferable to that, probably.

Perhaps they didn't recognize her as a Marine. She had ditched her gear in the hotel room that Lieutenant Pattillo had booked and now, clad only in a dark-green string bikini, the civvies thought that she was one of them.

Well, she let them. She had only joined the UNSC Marine Corps three years ago, when she had turned seventeen. When compared to most of her friends in the Corps, she was still somewhat "green" with her mentality.

But she didn't care. Right now, all Miia wanted to care about was the feeling of warm sunlight on her bare skin.

Well, the part of her that was bare, anyway. Echidnas had more scales covering their bodies than the other subspecies of Lamia's. Her arms were fully covered in dark, red scales and even parts of her face were protected by sturdy scales. Sure, they got warmed up as well, but the experience of warming scales completely _paled_ in comparison to the sensation of warming _skin_.

Miia sighed and closed her eyes. The lounge chair she was lying in, wasn't exactly designed with Liminals of her size in mind. Her lower body existed out of six meters of dense, powerful muscles and tough scales. A single careless movement and she would splinter the chair like it was made out of twigs. And she didn't want that.

Someone close to her shouted something. Miia immediately opened her eyes and scanned her surroundings, as her old Sergeant had taught her during the first six months of training. She hadn't detected any hostile smells, but her jacobson's organ couldn't account for everything. She had to identify her foe with her eyes before she could engage.

All she saw was an Asari trying to coax her Turian boyfriend into swimming with her. It was a stupid idea, really. Turians had a spectacular talent for drowning, as the boyfriend was now reminding the woman.

Miia sighed with relief. Ever since the Batarian attack on Mindoir, people were somewhat on edge on colonies in the Attican Traverse. If anything went wrong, it was either the Batarians or the Covenant. The former would see a planetary call to arms, while the latter would result in a planetary evacuation.

But if the Covenant found the Attican Traverse, where mankind was basically trying to hide it out, they were royally boned.

But right now, Miia didn't want to think about that. Elysium was just one of those colonies where you couldn't help but feel content. The people here welcomed everyone, alien or not. And that was a rare thing on human colonies.

Commander Keyes had seen both ends of that spectrum during his years in the Navy. Before Miia had joined the Marine regiment aboard his ship, the _Salty Spitoon,_ the old man had apparently clashed with the Templar Order as well as the Black Fang. He and his crew, which was nicknamed the Alien Hunter crew because of their exploits during the Sacking of Erszbat, had disabled a Templar warship above one of their colonies in extreme close range when it refused to answer their hails. Then, as it .immediately launched its single-ship fighters and transport carriers, Keyes personally took up arms to defend the Frigate.

They hadn't told Miia yet what that incident with the Black Fang had been all about, though. She had fought in four skirmishes against those thugs in the last three years and, even though the AH crew said that she had done an admirable job, they refused to tell her what their own problem with the Black Fang had been.

Not that she _cared_ …the Marine Complement wasn't supposed to mingle with the Navy crew. Ground-pounders didn't play with swabbies, after all.

But Miia liked the Commander and his crew. For humans, they were pretty good.

She closed her eyes again and tried to enjoy the sun.

The people were really going to town in this beach; shrieks and splashes and shouts. Ambient noises that made little sense. She didn't detect the smell of the crest of her squad; they weren't here. Were the civilians being this loud? Hard to imagine them having _that_ much fun…

Then, everything snapped into focus. The shrieks and shouts weren't people enjoying themselves at all; they were the real thing. Miia would recognize the sound of screaming civilians everywhere.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins and she jumped up from her seat. Something was wrong.

~0~

* * *

Lieutenant Jack Pattillo was enjoying his burrito when it happened. Taller and thicker than a human by half, one of those damn Orcs wandered over to his table, put his hands down on its surface, and leered at him.

Its skin was dark, its snout was pink and its eyes were hungry.

"That's a nice burrito you have there," it growled, flashing Jack a wicked smile.

Pattillo nodded, not bothering to tell the creature off. How could he, when his mouth was filled with burrito?

"It would be a shame if something were to happen to it."

Again, Pattillo nodded. The Orc was right; it would be a damn waste.

The pseudohuman grinned wickedly and reached for his burrito.

Jack's hand shot out and grabbed the Orc's thick, muscled wrist in an iron grasp.

"What-?"

The Lieutenant held up his finger, signalling that he needed to swallow first. It was very impolite to talk with food in your mouth.

The Orc nodded, understanding the vital cultural importance of swallowing one's food.

So Jack swallowed. "You touch that burrito. I eat _you_ instead."

The Orc glared at him for a few moments, before nervously chuckling and pulling his hand free. "You're not _that_ big, human. Whatcha gonna do?"

And then the Orc grabbed his burrito.

The waitress screamed, the customers jumped backwards and a young Harpy peered through the new Orc-shaped hole in the wooden wall of the café.

An upside-down Orc-shaped hole.

Jack raised his hand, intent on ordering a new burrito.

The door to the man's bathroom opened and Lieutenant Geoff Ramsey came wandering out, holding a glass of beer in one hand and a piece of a toilet seat in the other. "So ehm…this thing's supposed o come off, right?"

The waitress tore her gaze from the hole in her wall, shot _one_ look at the Lieutenant and then sighed loudly.

"They don't pay me enough for this…" she muttered, before walking into the man's room to survey the damage.

Ramsey glanced at the new entrance to the café, shrugged and walked back to Pattillo's table. "So what's up?"

"Some asshole tried to steal my burrito."

"That sucks. Some Liminals are so rude!" With that, he propped both of his feet atop the table and downed his beer in one go. "Commander Keyes just gave a call. Something about strange contacts near the Mass Relay."

Lieutenant Pattillo nodded. "Huh…that's weird."

"Yeah, I know man. So I was like "sir, I don't know what you mean. Strange contacts?" And then the link just went dead!"

"The link went dead?"

"I know. It's weird as dicks. Hey, can I get one of those burritos?"

"Sure. Waitress right there. Say, Geoff, I thought that Elysium used hybridized Citadel communications hardware for real-time communication?"

Ramsey sighed. "You're such a nerd. I don't know what goddamn tech we use for communicating!"

Pattillo chuckled. "Geoff, you're an officer aboard a state-of-the-art UNSC warship."

"Yeah? And I'm also on shore leave! I don't want to think about all that stuff! Hey, Miss, do you still have one of those burritos?"

Lieutenant Pattillo found it weird that the colony's comms would just fail like that. He was about to shrug it off as "none of his business" and take another bite of his burrito, when everything seemed to explode. A massive shockwave shot through the floor. People stumbled and fell, the windows shattered in a tinkling cascade that pelted everybody with a hail of shrapnel and Pattillo suddenly found his food covered with bits of debris.

"Awe, come on!" He heard Ramsey yell. "I'm hungry!"

The Lieutenant sighed and climbed back to his feet, shaking pieces of glass and wood from his beard. Some people had gotten hurt by the flying glass, badly. He heard moaning and screaming and, if he heard it correctly, short, staccato bursts of gunfire.

And sirens. He definitely heard sirens.

"Get your gun, moron!" Yelled Pattillo. "We're under attack!"

~0~

* * *

Miia cursed her choice of fashion as she, along with hundreds of other people, fled the beach. Dozens of small alien vessels descended upon the city like an angry swarm of hornets, opening fire indiscriminately on whatever they got in their sights.

 _Batarians_ , Miia thought grimly. Mercenaries and Batarians. But they wouldn't be so stupid to attack with warships like the _Salty Spitoon_ in orbit, would they? Any UNSC Frigate was a match for at least two Batarian warships.

Unless the Hegemony had brought in their entire fucking fleet. Which, from the looks of it, looked like it was very much the case.

In the mad dash to the relative safety of the buildings and hotels at the far end of the beach, Miia counted at least nine repurposed freighters, as well as six shuttles. They scattered across the beach, poured down suppressive fire on the civilians and then unloaded their cargo.

Said cargo existed out of Batarian soldiers. Lots of Batarian soldiers. Miia saw some Krogan, too, as well as Vorcha and even some Turians.

The young Corporal made her away to the other end of the beach, spotted the hotel where she had dumped her gear and hoped that she could beat the invaders to it. These people were hers to protect and she would be damned if she let these monsters take them.

"With me!" She shouted, hoping that the people around her would hear her voice over the rapid rattle of stuttering rifles. "I'm with the UNSC! We need to get away from the beach!"

Less than half of the civilians around her heard her, and even less actually listened. Luckily, many of the civilians caught in the open were Liminals.

And when things got hectic, Liminals acted on instinct. Not simple human instinct of fight, flight of whatever they did, but complex patterns of behaviour. The species that were less adapted for combat did whatever they could to survive, while those that _did_ possess traits for combat…well, after Mindoir, the Batarians couldn't have picked a worse colony to hit.

After the first few hectic moments of the invasion, the frantic behaviour of the people changed. Liminals sought out humans, paired up and stuck close to them to prevent mass panic from breaking out. Centaurs pulled complete strangers on their backs, while Dragons and other powerhouses like Ogres, Orcs and Arachnes scooped up the people who couldn't run on their own. Then, in a matter of moments, the panicked mass turned into an organized retreat back into the urban surroundings of the city, where the invaders would have to fight them in close quarters.

Miia slammed the front door of the hotel off its hinges with her tail and ducked low to avoid a burst of fire. Then, she darted into the atrium of the hotel, quickly followed by a large group of civilians. Some were gravely wounded, most were bleeding.

Bullets tore through the wooden walls of the hotel as the aggressors opened fire on them as well.

"Down!" Yelled Miia. Most of the people around her were now sharp enough to heed her warning and hit the deck, but not all of them.

More screams rang out.

She caught the scent of an alien that every Lamia worth their Jacobson would recognize. Batarians, closing in fast. They were going to try and breach the hotel.

Slavers, rapists and murderers. And here she was, clad in but a simple bikini. Fuck.

They couldn't stay here, not with all these damn mercs out there. They would eventually just riddle the building with bullets, and then where would they be?

That left Miia with just one choice. As a Centaur and a male Orc moved to block the doors, preventing nay pirates or slavers from breaching it, she made a beeline for her hotel room. She had stashed her stuff there just in case she would need to make a quick getaway.

She hastily navigated the hallways until she found room 012. She didn't have time to fumble with her keys and simply bashed the door down with an idle swing of her tail.

Closet-bag, underneath her bed. It contained her sidearm and ammo, as well as her BDU.

She had never been that fast in getting dressed, but she'd make a special exception today. Normally, the section of a Lamia BDU that covered the tail needed at least five minutes to set the proper way. She could do without. The Kinetic Barriers that her suit generated would protect her from these hostiles anyway.

She hurried to put on the undervest, strapped the armored components in place and undid the safety of her M7C Magnum. There was a metallic _click_ as she slid the first magazine into the pistol's handle.

Four clips of twelve High-Explosive Armor-Piercing rounds. Enough to punch through Krogan armor.

And if she ran out of ammo…

Miia flexed her tail and checked if her combat knife was still holstered.

They were going to wish she hadn't.

In the two minutes she had been away, the situation had grown a lot worse. The mercs had decided to simply set the hotel on fire with their Incineration modules, blasting the wooden walls with balls of infallible balls of omni-gel.

Miia winced when she saw that the Centaur had caught fire, and was bleeding out on the ground now.

Those bastards. She'd fuck them up for that.

The young Echidna peeked out the nearest window, saw one of the Batarians gesture at the doors and noticed that one of the Turians carried a missile launcher.

Not on her watch.

Miia steadied her breathing, gripped the powerful handgun in the proper way and opened fire on the Turian right as he bracing himself.

As an Echidna, her muscle strength was much greater than that of the average human, but she still felt the handgun kick against her palm.

The Turian's kinetic barrier shrugged off two rounds before they overloaded, the impact of the second one cracking his face-sealing helmet with sheer kinetic energy. The third round punched through his visor and exploded somewhere in his eye cavity.

The launcher discharged with a small puff of smoke, but the missile went wide.\

Miia immediately shifted her fire on the other aliens in sight. Not all of them were outfitted with shields. That, or they hadn't bothered to switch them on yet. The 12,7mm rounds tore through their skulls and exploded out the back, coating the street with all sorts of viscera.

The firefight lasted mere seconds. The only enemy that was left as a Krogan and it simply threw its shotgun to the ground, bellowed a challenge to all willing to hear him scream and then charged the window, ignoring Miia's last bullet even as it blew open the plates on his face.

The alien busted through the wall that she had been using as cover, intent on bowling her to the ground. There was only one problem with its otherwise-amazing tactical decision

Lamia's weren't just stronger, they were also much, much faster.

Miia dodged out of the alien's way and lashed out with her tail. In the span of a heartbeat, she had wrapped the warrior up in her coils. And though she lacked the raw physical prowess of some of her brethren, she was still more than capable of shattering the Krogan's ribs and crush its internal organs.

The poor little krogan would have struggled against her punishing embrace, had she not buried her fangs deep within its throat and injected a healthy dose of venom into its veins.

The Krogan continued to struggle, but it grew weaker with every breath it took.

Miia smirked. This, right here, was the part of her body that she took the most pride in. Her subspecies delivered a deadly mix of neurotoxin and cytotoxic venom that her family dubbed "Zer-Taipoxin". A devastating cocktail of molecules that killed within minutes, causing grizzly tissue necrosis if the victim somehow managed to survive.

This pitiful mercenary was already dead.

Miia held on to the alien until it lost consciousness. She wasn't going to hold the big guy until her venom did its work, of course. She had a colony to save. Strangling it to unconsciousness was probably a mercy. It wouldn't live to discover its body rotting away, if it was lucky.

The screams and shouts outside of the hotel intensified. Miia peered around the corner of the Krogan-shaped hole.

A group of the mercenaries had dug in opposite of the hotel. There were four of them, all armored and armed with assault rifles, though some had also hooked shotguns to the backplates of their armor. Two of them were distinctly Turian. One of them was a Batarian. The fourth though, was an Asari.

Miia frowned. That complicated things.

The four pirates were in cover behind a large car and laid down a field of suppressive fire on the entrance of the hotel, while the two Turians moved up to take them out.

 _Time to test how fast I really am,_ Miia grimly thought. She waited until there was a lull in their gunfire, no matter how brief, and then leapt through the opening to engage the hostiles in close quarters. Powerful muscles allowed her to cross the distance between herself and her first target almost instantly and she threw her entire weight behind her first strike. Her right fist smashed into the Turian's mouth, immediately followed by her left.

The Turian's hands came up to defend himself from more blows and Miia ducked sideways to dodge a Biotic attack from the Asari. Then, she ripped his rifle from his hands -breaking his fingers in the process- and wrapped the tip of her tail around his neck and chin. With a simple jerk, she broke his neck and threw his body at the ground.

The second Turian came running at her, but she didn't allow it to come close. She lashed out with her tail and swept him off his feet. Then, she hosed the Batarian and the Asari with assault rifle fire.

The Batarian stepped in front of his Asari comrade to take the brunt of the assault. Mass accelerator rounds ripped through his shields and armor and perforated him. He went down screaming and the Asari wrapped herself in a blue corona of Biotic energy in revenge, attempting to hit Miia with another Biotic attack.

The Echidna never allowed the blue witch to finish. She intercepted the woman and jerked her arm up. The Biotic pulse went wide and Miia pulled harder, dislocating the alien's shoulder. She then threw the woman over her hips and cracked her skull open against the concrete.

The Turian attempted to climb back to his feet. A sustained burst of gunfire put him down for good.

The Batarian, bleeding and groaning, weakly reached for the dead Asari.

Miia didn't see a dying mercenary trying to reach for his lover. Instead, she saw one of the monsters that had raped Mindoir. A bogeyman, intent on making mankind suffer for no better reason than simple, cruel malice.

A monster.

She knelt down and grabbed the alien by its face.

"Stop breathing," she hissed at it. She slammed the Batarian's skull against the floor, hard.

Its skull came apart with a wet crack and the alien went still.

Miia smirked. "Time for payback."

The alien's greatest advantage had been the element of surprise. They had stormed the colony just like they had with Mindoir and swarmed it with transports. It was so sad that the surprise didn't last. Now that the inhabitants of Elysium knew what they were dealing with, they weren't as much surprised as _pissed off_.

They just needed the proper guidance to direct that pissiness the right way.

Miia inspected the alien rifle. All Marines were expected to take courses on Citadel weaponry and equipment, especially those Marines that were employed within the Attican Traverse.

Still, it didn't take a genius to figure out that this wasn't your average pirate gun. It had a very advanced computing system, basic VI support and even a custom-tailored stock. This was military hardware.

Again, alien invaders carried military gear. Didn't the Batarians ever learn? The UNSC would target their homeworld after this.

Not like anyone would miss those sick bastards…

The Orc who had helped keep the entrance to the hotel closed now approached her. He was bleeding from several wounds, but it didn't look like he was bothered by them.

"I'm Corporal Lucifinae, with the UNSC Marine Corps," she told the Orc before he could speak up, "You know how to use a gun?"

Silently, he shook his head.

Miia sighed. She flicked the shotgun towards him, and he sluggishly caught it. "Seen any action movies then?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Good. It's a shotgun. Fire slowly, don't overheat it."

He didn't protest, for which Miia was very thankful. She went back to the hotel and quickly surveyed the damage the Hegemony had done. Twenty civilians inside the atrium. Six were in critical condition, three couldn't walk. The rest was…moderately okay.

They couldn't stay here. The hotel was about to fall apart on its own; it wouldn't last through another firefight.

"Everybody, listen up!" Shouted Miia. "I'm with the UNSC. Elysium is under attack! So if you want to survive the next hours, you'll do as I say."

Nobody objected. There was none of that annoying civvie behaviour Sergeant Murphy kept complaining about.

That made things a hell of a lot easier.

"You three, take care of those bodies. They'll draw attention, the bad kind. Just hide them under the stairs. You two, grab those guns. They're built with the Mass Effect in mind, so they don't use ammo. Pick your shots, use short bursts and you'll be fine. The rest of you, help get the wounded upstairs!"

Humans had the annoying tendency to freeze up in situations like these. Miia had to personally instruct each and every one of them, telling them where to apply pressure and where to hold on to the body…it was a total drag, but they got there.

"I'll try and draw their attention away," she then explained. "But that's no guarantee. Stay low, stay hidden. If you're lucky, they won't notice you."

Some objected to her leaving, but she didn't have much choice in the matter. The more the invading Batarians dedicated their time and effort to finding and killing her, the more time Elysium's militia had to organize a counter-attack.

And with that in mind, Miia went to work.

Illyria was a massive city. Much of it was dedicated to tourism. There were several shelters for evacuation purposes, but there wasn't much in line of defence. The orbital platforms wouldn't be online for another three years.

Which meant that, if the Batarians found those shelters, the people inside were dead. Well…they'd be dead if they were lucky.

She wasn't going to let that happen.

The Echidna ran into a hostile fireteam searching a house and quickly melted away in the shadows. After making sure that they hadn't seen her, she slithered in through a hole in the side of the house and engaged the enemy from the rear.

There were several Batarians, also led by an Asari. Miia expertly fired a trio of rounds at the woman, causing her shields to flare, overload and fail. She fell to her knees, bent forwards and collapsed.

The Batarians turned around.

Individually, they weren't much of a threat. But Miia knew what they were capable of in a group, _knew_ what they would do if given the chance.

She opened fire again and put down two of the four-eyed bastards before the remaining ones opened fire. When they did, Miia rapidly closed in on them and engaged them in close quarters combat.

Mercenaries and soldiers or not, these muppets only had the strength of a normal, untrained human. They were no match for her. With a powerful slam of her tail and a well-placed hook, she dispatched of both of them.

She shook the blood from her hands and moved on. She went from building to building, making sure to properly clear them before continuing on. By the fifth engagement, she had burned through her magnum ammo.

She bludgeoned one of the Turians to death with the M7C's now-empty handle and put the bloodied weapon back in its holster. Maybe, she reasoned, if she could rendezvous with the local militia forces, she could replenish it.

That idea went down the drain very quickly. As she reached one of the major intersections, half a kilometre from the beach, she realized that the Hegemony must have hit them harder than expected.

A group of Illyria Police Department enforcers had tried to make a stand right in the middle of the intersection, unsuccessfully. The ground was littered with bodies, most of them alien. Five of them, however, were distinctively Liminal.

Miia paused by the body of a Krogan. Someone had jammed a monster of a knife into its left eye socket. Probably the cause of its death, too. For all their durability, even a Krogan would die when something sharp lodged itself into their brain.

The Echidna slowly pulled the knife out of the alien's face, shook the gore from its blade and looked it over. Ten inches of stainless, diamond-coated steel. Serrated, with a slight curve at its end. A survival knife, large enough to do work as a machete.

She pocketed the knife and then searched the bodies of the fallen Police Officers. She found two Magnums, a single MA5 rifle and, to her surprise, sheath that looked like it went with her new knife.

On the human officer.

"Fuck it all," Miia muttered as she gently undid the sheath and tied it to her BDU. Every death, Liminal or otherwise, was one too many. "Don't worry. I'll finish your duty for you."

The caught the scent of more alien soldiers. She didn't see them, but she didn't need visual contact to find her prey.

Like all Lamia's, she had pit-vision. She could track the aliens simply because they _lived_.

Something that she would soon rectify.

Starting with the alien bastards that were playing dead at the side of the road. She slotted the bastards with precise bursts of fire, shooting all four of them before they could jump to their feet.

The MA5's powerful rounds made for messy exit holes and each head she popped produced a wet noise as the bullets found their mark.

Grain-sized projectiles impacted around her as all hell broke loose. Doors flung open, windows were busted and alien soldiers poured in fire from all directions. Miia dodged and weaved through the overlapping fields of fire and quickly fell back to one of the ravaged buildings, thankful that the aliens weren't as precise as the Covenant was said to be.

But what they lacked in accuracy, they made up for sheer rate of fire. They came from all directions, unburdened by concerns of ammo or magazines.

The Echidna was careful to keep her back to a wall at all times as she engaged the enemy squads. She fired her assault rifle until it ran dry, discarded it and resumed firing with the magnums, disregarding common sense and opting to duel-wield them. She could handle the recoil and as long as she only fired them one at a time, she'd be fine.

She jumped back as a disgusting Vorcha tried to jump her and instinctively countered with her knife, nearly decapitating the vermin in the process.

She kicked its corpse aside, pocketed its shotgun and continued her bloody work.

The dozen or so enemy combatants turned to two dozen, then three. Before soon, Miia Lucifinae found herself surrounded on all sides as the soldiers dedicated more and more manpower to try and take her out.

As her one-woman war on the invaders dragged on, her muscles started to grow weary. Hunger gnarled at her stomach and her fingers were starting to grow numb from the constant rattle of automatic weapons firing.

Miia eyed the corpse of a fallen Krogan. She was a carnivore by nature, and her digestive tract could easily handle all kinds of raw meat.

And she hadn't eaten a thing the entire day…

It would be so easy..

Miia shook her head and quickly pushed those thoughts out of her mind. It wouldn't be easy at all! They were aliens, but they were still people!

It wouldn't be cannibalism. A quick bite would keep her on her feet for the rest of the day.

Gritting her teeth, Miia quickly made her way to a different place to stand her ground. It wouldn't be easy, and that would be the end of it!

When an enemy Mako thundered down the road, she was almost relieved. A distraction was _just_ what she needed.

She outflanked the Batarian welcome wagon and threw a tech grenade in their midst when they started fanning out. Their omni-tools flared, their shields overloaded and their blood went everywhere as the Echidna gunned down them.

She immediately dove into the Mako before the hatch could close. She plucked the driver from his seat, bound him tightly in her coils and was about to deliver a lethal bite when she heard a voice come over the radio.

" _-four. Repeat, the Serpent was spotted in this area of activity! Tell the men to stay close, we've lost half our company in that grid!"_

"Serpent?" Muttered Miia. "That's impolite…"

The only reason why the Batarians bothered to keep updating their language codex for mainstream use was to keep spreading propaganda, according to Commander Keyes. Hubris and arrogance, as befitting of the Hegemony. But today it worked out in her favour. She now knew that more company would be coming.

"Well, isn't that handy?" She told the Batarian soldier in her grasp, who nodded in agreement.

So she broke his spine and discarded his dead body.

If only she knew how to pilot this damn thing…she could go nuts on their troops with their own APC. Oh well.

She searched the latest victims of her disastrous shore leave for weapons, found two frag grenades and grinned happily. More bang for her buck, just what she needed!

Beyond the district she was operating, combat seemed to rage on. Every now and then UNSC aerial assets would soar overhead, pursued by or pursuing alien craft.

Oh how she longed for radio contact. Where were the militia members? The other soldiers on shore leave?

The Batarian reinforcements much sooner than she had expected. They came from every direction, on foot or traveling via light motorized vehicles. They surged towards her position as if happy to die, prancing over their dead in the process.

Miia sighed explosively. Would this day never end?

~0~

* * *

"Screw that," Lieutenant Pattillo exclaimed upon seeing the pile of dead pirates. "I'm not climbing -fuck that, I'm gonna build a house."

Lieutenant Ramsey broke down laughing. "Come on man, someone fired a flare _right_ the fuck _there_! Atop that building!"

"Na-ah. Not gonna do it. Look at that shit; someone piled those bodies together in a big heap! Blocking the goddamn windows! It's obviously a trap!"

Lieutenant Ramsey sighed and picked up a stone. "You and your goddamn traps. Aliens are stupid as dicks, man. They don't do traps."

"The Batarian Hegemony _literally_ booby-trapped their guys with grenades on Erszbat."

"Yeah, but they're still dumb. Look, no trap!"

Lieutenant Ramsey flicked the rock at a random corpse. The projectile flew straight and true and nailed one of the bodies between the legs.

"Aww, sweet, dick-bounce!"

The "body" yelped with pain and shot upright, prompting Lieutenant Pattillo to quickly sent a stream of bullets directly into its face. "What did I tell you? What did I just fucking tell you!"

"Yeah yeah, look at me, I have a beard, I am smart!"

"Would you shut up? There's more of them getting up, right now."

"You have a gun, dumbass!"

"What, and you don't? Why don't you start shooting too, jackass?"

Together, the two Lieutenant's emptied ten magazines into the "bodies" that were lying on the ground. The bullets went absolutely everywhere, but they did reduce the alien ambushers into actual bodies.

"Yeah, shove that up your hole!" Yelled Ramsey. "So why didn't they shoot back?"

Pattillo shrugged. "I dunno. They didn't have guns?"

"That's…shit dude, you're right, they didn't have guns! Why's that?"

"Same reason why they were hiding underneath dead bodies. They're stupid."

"I guess so man. It's almost like they were hiding from something. What do bodies block?"

Ramsey shrugged. "I can tell what they don't fucking block. Bullets. Hey-ooooh!"

Pattillo just rolled with his eyes. "Whatever. Look, there's obviously _something_ going on here."

"What makes you say that?"

Lieutenant Pattillo gestured at the blood coating the ground, at the dead alien bodies that were scattered _everywhere_ , to the inert Mako and the blown-apart bombed-out ruins of houses. "Call it a hunch. There's spent shell casings _everywhere_."

Overhead, several UNSC gunships started their third patrol of the area. Tanks, APC's and even a tank rolled down the street. They were just about getting ready locking the area down. Strangely enough, there weren't any enemy combatants anymore. Just a shitload of scared, but unharmed civilians and a small handful of Batarians desperate to surrender, lest they unvoke the wrath of some "Serpent"

Lieutenant Ramsey needed a stronger drink after this day.

~0~

* * *

Commander Keyes had the sinking feeling that the battle for Elysium would be the first of many. Junk orbited the world; debris from shattered ships, spent munitions and thousands of dead bodies.

Alien, mostly.

He watched the other USNC ships orbit the planet, dropping off more personnel and taking in wounded. Frigates, Destroyers and a massive refit and repair station. A total of fifteen ships standing by to defend Elysium from any further attacks.

It had happened again. The Batarians had come from the Mass Relay, approached the world in FTL until they reached a distance of roughly a thousand kilometres, after which they made a beeline straight for the capital cities. Just like Mindoir.

And this time, they had brought in an entire fleet. Twenty-four vessels, including several massive Cruisers and a dozen refitted freighters designed for troop transport.

But unlike Mindoir, the Batarians couldn't have picked a worse planet to attack. The UNSC had opted to turn Elysium into their fortress-world of the Attican Traverse, the one planet they were allowed to militarize as long as they weren't using it as staging points to attack the Covenant. The ODP's hadn't been online yet, but there were several other military platforms in orbit, ready to defend the world from any and all attackers.

A UNSC battlegroup has been fifteen minutes away, bolstering the defending vessels even further. Hundreds of soldiers had been on shore leave during the assault. The siege on Illyria had been broken in a matter of hours.

The _Salty Spitoon_ alone had destroyed five alien ships, and she had done it with half its crew still on Elysium.

Not bad, all things considered.

On-screen, Rear Admiral Hackett continued debriefing him. Keyes couldn't blame him; he barely understood what had happened himself. " _What about the rest of them?"_

"They fled, sir. With eighty percent of their fleet destroyed, the Batarians knew they wouldn't stand a chance anymore."

Hackett nodded. " _I see. I take it they abandoned their ground forces too?"_

With a scowl, Keyes replied, "They did. Survivors have to be protected at all times; nine out of ten people are willing to risk all sorts of punishment to murder any Batarians on sight."

" _What are the casualties?"_

The Admiral could have had Keyes write a report, but Hackett wasn't the sort of man who liked sifting through paperwork.

Which worked out very well for Jacob, because he disliked having to write such reports. "Civilian casualties number in the low triple digits. No more than two-hundred. Military personal lost in the counter-attack, combined with militia losses, are even lower. The populace was prepared, Admiral. The Batarians were completely stonewalled, despite all their pirate and mercenary friends."

Hackett frowned. " _No more than two-hundred civilians lost? That is very fortunate. How did this happen?"_

"In part, if I might say so myself, sir, because of one specific member of the _Salty Spitoon's_ Marine complement. Corporal Miia Lucifinae, a Lamia of the Echidna subspecies. She single-handedly held off the Batarian slavers in the capital city, keeping their forces occupied for seven hours before reinforcements arrived."

Hackett nodded " _Impressive."_

Impressive didn't even cut it. "She kept the enemy preoccupied, diverted their attention from the civilians. Corporal Lucifinae saved hundreds of lives today. More, I'd wager."

" _Single-handedly huh? Sounds like M7 material to me. A real war hero. That'll liven up the moral at the home-front."_

Keyes winced. Today had proved that the UNSC needed their fleets within the Attican Traverse just as much as they needed them in their own Cluster. If only they could have found a way to allocate all warships to the Covenant front…"She did us proud."

" _Then I'll be sure to give her a commendation. Now, Commander, there's something you should know. Better to find out now, than when it gets on the news."_

"What is it, sir?"

Hackett looked grim when he said, " _Fourteen minutes before their forces arrived in-system, the Batarian Hegemony declared war on the United Nations Space Command. This was their first major assault."_

Keyes sighed. He had expected this to happen, ever since the Sacking of Erszbat, but he had secretly hoped that the Hegemony would see reason. "The UNSC is at war with the Hegemony?"

" _Yes. Spy probes are already on their way into their territory, but the attack on Elysium was no mere pirate act."_

There couldn't be a single alien in the galaxy that doubted the Hegemony's ties to their pirate and slaver acts, but for the Hegemony to simply drop all pretends like that…they were building up to something big.

But still…with the death of Preston Cole and the recent destruction of Draco III, this was about the worst news that he could reliably get. The worst news any soldier could get. Now mankind would be fighting a war on two fronts…fighting two genocidal Empires instead of one. "Sir, can't the Council intervene?"

" _Let the higher-ups handle this, Commander. We'll both receive further orders. For now, I suggest you keep Wavecom open. I can't talk about it, not yet, but the UNSC is preparing something big. Take the rest of the day off, Commander. Hackett out."_

Keyes saluted, puzzled at the Admiral's rather odd way of acting. Something big? What did Wavecom have to do with this? As far as he knew, it was the emergency commercial channel, reserved for special broadcasts through civilian sectors. Citadel technology had allowed for incredible advancements in superluminal communication; everybody with a screen capable of receiving Wavecom would be looking at the same emergency broadcast.

So what would that be?

~0~

* * *

 **Skyllian Verge**

 **Torfan**

Jardon Sarok eagerly watched the human broadcast channel that his tech expert had managed to tap into. It was something that the universal translator called "Wavecom" and according to his sources, it was a very important military channel, meant for secret communications.

The fools hadn't realized that Batarian ingenuity had cracked their code already!

"Come one," Muttered the Batarian Commander. "What secrets do you have for me?"

At first it was just some worthless monster-human describing their stupid war against the so-called Covenant. This supposed alien empire mightier than the Citadel Council. They described how dire and desperate the war went, which was just human propaganda to gain Turian sympathy. Then, it was explained how some sections of what was about to follow might be too explicit for young viewers.

"What is this?" Yelled Jardon. "Some military intelligence…are you sure this is the right frequency?"

"Everything checks out. This has to be."

Grumbling, Jardon returned his focus to the screen. The footage had changed to that of a war-zone. A large warship hovered over a massive body of water, right next to an urban combat zone. Humans and monster-humans alike were fighting some sort of battle right in the centre of the urban territory.

Large, bipedal aliens in shimmering blue and red armor were steadily advancing even under heavy fire. Their weapons fired flashes of blue light, which impacted almost instantaneously and melted through solid steel with ease.

The camera focused on one of the buildings, where several strange creatures were sliding down the walls. Not monster-humans nor normal humans.

"What is this…"

" _Presenting,"_ said the monster-human who was describing the scene, " _The Spartan super-soldiers."_

The "Spartans" leapt off the walls and engaged the aliens in close quarters.

"Gods!" Exclaimed Jardon. It happened so fast, he could barely follow what was going on. There were roughly two dozen of those large, alien soldiers. He could see their armor flicker with shields as projectiles hit them. There were four of these "Spartans" and together, they all but annihilated the alien strike force in close quarters, firing whatever gun they could get their hands on and working together to a degree that _had_ to be rehearsed a dozen times over.

Within twenty seconds, it was over.

"Impossible!" Spat Jardon. "Revert the footage and play again, half speed!"

At half the transmission's original speed, the Batarian Commander found it much easier to follow these strange soldiers. These Spartans were very large humans clad in green power armor. But they moved like no organic could ever hope to move, struck with such force that their foes seemed to get crushed underneath their blows.

It couldn't be real.

He watched one Spartan in particular as it engaged six aliens in close quarters. It was difficult to follow because of the camera's angle, but the green-clad soldier punched the alien against its head, which sent it reeling. The Spartan followed up with another blow, using its other arm, before hitting the alien with a downwards blow, after which it slammed its knee into the creatures face and sent it flying with one last kick.

Even at half speed, Jardon had to rewind three times just to see how it worked out.

"Impossible," grumbled Sordak, a veteran of the Batarian 4th Army. His combat experience was unmatched. "There is no such thing as super-soldiers. These humans are lying."

Yes…Jardon supposed that made sense. They had manipulated the footage to make it appear as if they were doing better than they were. War propaganda, all of it.

The UNSC was afraid. Afraid of the Batarian Hegemony that would come to kill their soldiers, destroy their fleets and claim their civilians.

They had better be. A storm was coming, and humanity would be right in the middle of it.

~0~

* * *

 **Unidentified system**

 **Aboard CAS-Class Assault Carrier** _ **Seeker of Truth**_

 **Fleet of Particular Justice**

Supreme Commander Thela 'Vadamee stood in the cavernous bridge of the _Seeker of Truth_ , rigidly watching the human broadcast play. The purple cloak draped across her shoulder pauldrons flowed down across her back, shrouding her in a corona of darkness. To her crew, she appeared like exactly what she was: a very dangerous warrior.

" _Introducing the Spartan super-soldiers."_

And the Supreme Commander watched the human propaganda footage play. She saw Sangheili warriors fall, one by one, against these strange armored humans. They were like lightning, like brimstone. They struck with the force of a mighty Mgalekgolo, but much, much faster.

One particular fiend caught her attention. It led the assault on the Sangheili warriors, leading the others into battle. It placed itself in harm's way like every leader should, yet there were very few of the human leaders that fought on the front lines.

 _Yes_ , Thela thought as she beheld the demonic warrior. _Like a leader should…_

She remembered these creatures. These demons. She had encountered them before, but none as…open…in their capacity for war as these ones.

She would take great pleasure in finding this leader demon and claiming his head.

~0~

* * *

 **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: SPECIES: LAMIA**

 _The Lamia are a reptilian liminal race with the upper body of a human and the lower body of a snake. A mono-gendered demi-human race, Lamias are predatory carnivores by nature, able to consume meat of all kinds and continue on without food for days. Their serpentine tails are powerful enough to rend steel and crush bones with an idle swing._

 _All Lamias possess a sensory organ similar to pitvipers that allows them to see heat signatures. With it, they can follow the heat signature of their prey even in the dark. Combined with their natural ability to sense scents in the air and trace individuals across great distance, this allows them to function as excellent scout-snipers._

 _Two Lamia subspecies are of particular interest to the UNSC ground forces: the Jormungand and the Echidna._

 _The Jormungand is known for her remarkable resilience to all forms of electricity, on par with the Salamander's resistance to fire. Despite their bulk, they are excellent infiltration specialists._

 _The Echidna species are renowned for their poisonous fangs and unique tail patterns. While not as physically strong as normal Lamias, an Echidna can shrug off even more punishment, as their bodies are mostly covered by scales._

 _~0~_

* * *

 _ **Next chapter**_ _: a Spartan mission runs into a snug, a certain demoness forms an odd friendship and the Butcher of Torfan makes her appearance._


	9. 1,6: Daily life in the Skyllian Verge

_Chapter 9, in which Spartans spartan, Shepards shepard and Butchers butcher._

 _In addition, expect an above-average amount of graphic violence in this chapter. Most of it aimed at the bad guys, but still. You have been warned._

 _And this is the last "prologue" chapter. Chapter 10 will bridge the gap between the background built up here and the main story with the Chief._

 _~0~._

* * *

 **Silean Nebula**

 **Asari colony Nevos**

 **Aboard** _ **CAS-Class**_ **Assault Carrier** _ **Seeker of Truth, Fleet of Particular Justice**_

It was not the way of the Sangheili to question the Holy Ones. The Writ of Union was clear; the Sangheili were to keep them safe while the San'shyuum, in turn, found the path. The Prophet of Stewardship was an ever-present reminder of the oath that tied their species together.

However, Thela Vadamee was starting to wonder if the Hierarchs had chosen the right individual to lead the _Fleet of Particular Justice_ in the religious matters. After all, this race of "Asari" that they had discovered years ago, members of the Pact or not, bore such remarkable semblance to humanity that they had to related to them as well. That alone warranted a complete investigation, followed by an immediate assault on their homeworld.

Vadamee felt a moment of repulsion, and fought to stave it off. It felt wrong that the creatures merited a name. Asari…names implied legitimacy and this "Citadel Council" was a false Pact, a mockery of the Covenant's ways.

Yes, everything pointed to the one form of justice reserved for creatures like them: extermination.

So why had the Prophet of Stewardship ordered a campaign of terror instead? Surely it was wiser to deny the humans their well-hidden allies instead of sowing dread?

"Look at the grovelling creatures," said the Prophet. The San'shyuum floated next to the Supreme Commander and observed the massive screens, which displayed the enemy fleet as well as their own. "Soon, we shall teach them true fear."

Vadamee huffed. As Supreme Commander, she and the Prophet stood on equal footing. But she was faithful, and she would let the creature carry out its orders.

If the Hierarchs had a special fate in mind for these beings, so be it.

The Prophet spread its arms and threw its head back. "Let the culling of the primitives start! We shall burn our message across the stars, that no False Covenant rise to face our own!"

On-screen, the Battleship _Warrior's Intent_ slowly drifted towards the planet. Its twelve energy projectors were bristling with energy.

There were about thirty alien warships in orbit around the planet. Strange, flat vessels, broader than they were long. As the _Warrior's Intent_ closed in on the world, the alien warships fanned out.

Vadamee had read up on their capabilities, knew their strategies. The False Pact employed toy warships with little effective weapons. Their true strength came from the way they were employed; unopposed, the small vessels could and would swarm around the system with high speeds, pelting lone warships from long distance.

But their tactics had one glaring weakness.

They could not perform one action at the same time as another.

"Half power forward," she called to her officers. "Manoeuvre one three zero by four three. Seize their world while it is unprotected."

Thirty alien warships shot around the planet like insects. Half of them stopped and faced the _Intent,_ while the other half tried to manoeuvre behind the rest of the forward battlegroup.

At this point, her younger brother would have had his other warships take an in-system Slipspace jump to outflank their vessels before they could reorient. Thel had always preferred supreme excellence above brute force.

Thela, however, would allow them to come. They had to drop all speeds to orient themselves on target, which made them exceedingly vulnerable.

The _Warrior's Intent_ opened fire. The mighty battleship lit the space around the battle in a cleansing illumination. Six enemy vessels appeared frozen in time for a moment, before the lances of energy tore through their hull, blasting their decks into atoms, shattering their ships into hazes of glowing particles.

Kinetic weapons impacted on the battleship's hull, but their tremendous shields easily repelled those slugs.

Pulse Lasers swatted enemy fighters out of the air with great ease. The fleet was crumbling.

"The futility of resistance will become clear to them soon," the Prophet spoke with a manic glee in his normally-calm eyes. "When they see their defences cleansed by one warship, they will know true power. This, Supreme Commander, is how you break your foe's will!"

Thela Vadamee shot a glare at the Prophet. They had been steadily "cleansing" humanity's worlds with small groups of warships for a long time now. There was nothing "broken" about their will. It seemed that, the longer the war raged on, the harder and fiercer the humans fought.

They were like the Sangheili, in that regard.

Except that the humans came in many shapes and forms, while the Sangheili were one. What that meant for their people, the Supreme Commander knew not. Perhaps, if the Sangheili had more forms like humanity did, the recent replacements of entire battlegroups with the Jiralhanae would be easier to accept.

"Supreme Commander, Asari vessels are attempting to block our approach," spoke one of Thela's officers.

"Heat lines four, seven and ten," growled Vadamee. "Dash them to the winds."

Her officer nodded and prepared the weapons. Within three heartbeats, they were ready.

The alien warships appeared as holographic images in the screen. Larger vessels, at greater range. They could not be allowed to live.

"Fire all lines."

The lights on the cavernous bridged dimmed ever so subtly as plasma heated and flowed from their lateral banks and arced forwards in two bloody streaks across the dark.

The enemy vessels turned. Energy signatures climbed steadily as they prepared for another jump.

A desperate manoeuvre and not quick enough.

The volley of plasma charges found their mark. The enemy's shields flared and flickered, their hulls melted and plumes of atmosphere jetted outwards.

As fast as they were, they needed clear lines and precision manoeuvring to speed across the system.

The two ships died in fire and the Supreme Commander was free to bring _Seeker of Truth_ about, raining death down upon the world.

The _Warrior's Intent_ unleashed its energy projectors again.

The darkness of interstellar space parted. Five vessels were gutted in an instant and exploded into nothingness.

The highly-esteemed Battleships were few across the Covenant Fleets. They were covered with thick nanolaminate plating and armed with enough energy projectors to reduce any heretic fleet to ashes. Prized flagships such as these often took on entire fleets by themselves. That the Hierarchs had deemed the Prophet of Stewardship important enough to grant him such a vessel war was unprecedented.

A new threat appeared on the holographic display A titanic vessel by Asari standards. Cross-shaped, hollow in its centre, but bristling with energy signatures.

It had appeared on extreme range and took the Frigate _Zeal's Compulsion_ by surprise. It shelled the Frigate with some sort of kinetic weapon that moved faster than their plasma charges.

The _Compulsion's_ shields held, barely so. Individually, these kinetic weapons were weak. But they fired with a greater rate of fire than even their plasma weapons did and had great range.

That vessel would not live another day.

"Supreme Commander," spoke the Prophet. "This display of technology…do you believe this False Pact to be with the humans?"

False Pact, Citadel Collective, Vadamee did not care what name they carried for themselves. They would all perish in fire.

"No," Vadamee bluntly replied. She gestured at the ship. "The humans carry stronger weapons, but their manoeuvrability and firing speed is limited. _This_ display of force is an affront to my name. Veer! Prepare a Slipspace jump directly behind that titan's position. Xaru! Send word to the pilots in the second bay. Have them prepare our boarding craft. You will tell them to wait, however. I will personally join them in the fray."

"Supreme Commander, what are you planning?" Demanded the Prophet.

Thela clicked her mandibles in annoyance. Few female Sangheili were ever allowed in their navy. Yet those displaying exemplary competence were often preferred above male ones for their pragmatic way of thinking and, more importantly, unparalleled ferocity in combat. That this Prophet, Exalted One or not, kept second-guessing her reminded her of the ferocity _she_ had displayed to earn her rank.

Even mighty Mgalekgolo had trembled in her presence! She had killed thousands to earn her rank and she would not be second-guessed, not by anyone!

But she remained calm as she replied, "If you wish to seize their secrets, Holy One, then let us not delay."

The _Seeker of Truth_ shimmered blue-white and disappeared into Slipspace. Moments later, they reappeared in normal space, a hundred thousand kilometres from where they had left. The titanic Asari warship were a mere thousand kilometres away and too slow to turn.

"Fire pulse laser battery one through five," she growled. "Shred their shields, burn their defences. Launch fighter flights seven through fifty. Neutralize their weaponry before the boarding craft reach their target."

And with that, Thela Vadamee turned around, her cape billowing around her waist. She knew that the transports would wait patiently and eagerly for her arrival; rare was the day where she would not personally lead her warriors into combat.

Today, the Prophet of Stewardship would learn how a true warrior struck fear into the hearts of their foes.

~0~

* * *

 **Citadel**

 **Citadel Tower**

 **Citadel Calendar: 2178**

Akuma Ser'aphim had borne witness to every significant event throughout humanity's time as a spacefaring nation since her birth. She had seen the public announcement of Tobias Fleming Shaw and Wallace Fujikawa's ingenious Slipspace Drive, more than three-hundred years ago. The breakthrough that had opened a path into the stars for all.

Humanity had risen higher than ever before and she had memorized every single world that her people claimed. Every hurdle humanity took, every obstacle they conquered, she had learnt by heart and soul.

And now they were falling, so much further.

Every few weeks, in the early hours before breakfast, Akuma would receive the news of the death of yet another beautiful world. A report of yet another few million innocent souls lost to the Howling Void. It had gone on like that for the past twenty-one years and she had started to dread the night after the first ten.

So when the Elder Devil silently went about her business in the Council Chambers and spotted Councillor Tevos sitting on one of the couches, grieving without a sound, she instantly knew what had happened.

She stopped a few feet away from the devastated Asari. "They did not stop, did they? The Covenant continued their offense on your worlds?"

Tevos slowly raised her head from her hands. Her eyes were wet and her face was stained with tears. "Millions of my people cried out in fear as they were murdered from the skies…two of our worlds were utterly destroyed last month, and it is my fault that-"

Her voice broke at the last moment and she didn't averted her face again. Akuma felt her heart ache as she watched the proud and noble Councillor hurt herself like that, and she sat down next to the woman. She gently placed an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer, offering her the chance to recompose herself.

The trembling in her shoulders faded away after half a minute, and the Asari took a deep breath to steady herself.

"You did not schedule a meeting yet?"

Tevos shook her head. "I couldn't…I advised against total mobilization and now, millions of my people died because of it. How can I face my colleagues after that?"

"Those people would have died either way," said the Elder Devil. "You witnessed it. You could not have stopped them."

"We couldn't stop them…" whispered Tevos. "She gave Akuma a look. "How… _how_ do we stop them?"

Akuma Ser'aphim straightened herself and said, "I shall ask for the head of FLEETCOM's Sector Three himself. Call in a meeting with Sparatus and Valern, to commence as soon as he arrives. Bring the Council of Matriarchs and the Court of Primarchs."

She did not need to use her hypnotic suggestions, neither her compelling voice, to command the Councillor with the authority of the Council itself. Tevos knew very well what she needed to do, which was also why Akuma left her last comment unspoken.

This time, peace would come through war. It was time for the Citadel Council to prepare itself for a war unlike they had ever seen before.

As she watched the Asari Councillor hurry towards her private quarters, the Elder Devil felt a strange sensation of guilt. A paradox of feelings. She felt horrible for the millions of innocent civilians who had perished in fire, there would be no doubt about that. However, she also felt elated that the Covenant had assaulted the Citadel where it hurt. It meant that the war was about to change for humanity and it would be a change for the better. Now, the Covenant would be assaulted on all fronts. It would take the pressure off of the inner colonies. Perhaps, total disaster might be averted.

She wished Preston Cole was still with them.

~0~

* * *

 **Council Chambers**

 **Seven days later**

Admiral Hieronymus Michael Stanforth stepped off of the rapid transport and into the cavernous Citadel Chambers, followed by his six guards. Two humans, four Liminals.

He scanned his surroundings with trained eyes, taking notice of the colourful trees, the prestigious fountains. Truly a setting worthy of the mightiest individuals in Citadel Space.

He found the lack of military atmosphere both disturbing as telling. Disturbing, because it revealed to him that he was about to deal with politicians, not soldiers.

Telling, because it revealed to him that these people were frightened for their lives. They had no experience with a foe like the Covenant. Their lives were filled with other problems.

He walked up the set of stairs leading to and beyond the petitioners stage. This day, there would he no public meeting. They would converse in the shadows.

Admiral Stanforth was greeted by two aliens he recognized as "Turians", the same creatures who had mistakenly attacked Shanxi. They had broken a thousand regulations to assist the UNSC behind the backs of the other races, something for which the Admiral was most thankful.

He gave the two soldiers -for their stance and attitude left little doubt about their function here- a nod, and they parted to allow him entrance.

Stanforth discovered that he was late to the party, much to his disappointment. The massive room was filled with aliens; eight Turian ones, six Asari ones and three Salarian ones. He recognized the members of the Council, as well as their Spectre guards.

He was an ONI officer; he had done his homework.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he spoke. The doors closed behind him. "My apologies for the delay."

"We understand," said the Turian Councillor. "And we apologize for the ugly necessity of having to pull you away from your duties. Please, take your seat."

Stanforth took notice of how the Turian specified "duty". He was a military man?

"This meeting will commence now" said one of the Matriarchs. Her name display read "Benezia". "Admiral Stanforth? You have the word."

The Admiral gathered his dossiers, placed down his papers and activated his tacpad. "Today is 2178 by the Citadel's calendar, 2546 by ours. If I might use this room's holographic projectors?"

One of the Turian Primarchs gestured. "By all means," he spoke.

Stanforth reached for the data-slot near his own seat. The past twenty years of cooperation with the Citadel Species had allowed for at least rudimentary means of sharing data. The slot was compatible with his tacpad.

The lights in the room dimmed. An amber sun appeared in the centre of the room, with three planets in close orbit. "This is Harvest. Population of three million, a very productive colony. Twenty-one years ago, the Harvest orbital platform made long range radar contact with an unidentified object at extreme range."

He saw Tevos lower her head. This story was bit too familiar to the woman.

"Contact with Harvest was subsequently lost. Fleet Command assembled battlegroup to investigate. It consisted of one Destroyer and two Frigates. They entered the system and…well…we know the rest."

The holographic display of Harvest changed to match its current appearance. Those present who had not yet seen the effects of the Covenant's glassing campaign could not contain their shock. Some of them gasped, others flinched. The rest just stared at the floating ball of glass, craters and desert.

One of the Turian Generals, "Corinthus," scraped his throat. "I assume…all inhabitants were lost?"

"The valiant campaign of the local militia forces ensured the successful evacuation of ten-thousand civilians."

The General shook his head, but did not inquire further.

"We found one of the interloper's ships in the system and initiated contact. Humanity's very first, first contact scenario. The warship responded with one transmission before engaging our battlegroup, destroying the Frigates and heavily damaging the Destroyer. I do not have the original audio log here, but the copy is just as good."

He found the file he needed and played it. A moment later, a voice thundered from the chamber's speakers.

" _Your destruction is the will of the Gods . . . and we are their instrument."_

Stanforth wanted nothing more than to preserve the image of an expert in dealing with the Covenant, a hardened war veteran, but the artificial voice still sent shivers down his spine. He remembered when he held this precise presentation for the SPARTAN-II's, all those years ago…that the audio log could still get such a response from him was very grating.

One of the Matriarchs, "Aethyta", asked, "So I guess this ain't a simple translation?"

The Admiral raised his eyebrow. The woman was sharp, but as blunt as the rear end of his Cruiser. He liked that. "No. They broadcast this to us in our own language. This was our very first contact with the alien collective known as the Covenant. And now, the same thing has happened to you people."

The Asari Councillor stood. "We have lost four of our worlds already," she spoke. "Lost with all their inhabitants."

"The Covenant did in four years what the Krogan took forty to do," growled one of the Turians. "We are facing a crisis unlike ever seen before!"

"That is why I am here," said Stanforth. "The UNSC is too stretched-thin, between the Covenant and the Batarian Hegemony, we cannot offer military aid. We can, however, share every last scrap of intelligence we have on the Covenant. If we stand together, we might just weather this storm."

The Turian Councillor shared a look with the Salarian Councillor, who nodded.

One General Septimus slammed his fists against the table and snapped, "If they want to have their try at facing an entire galactic civilization on their own, the Turian Hierarchy is happy to oblige!"

Other Generals and Primachs nodded in agreement, some even going as far as to add in declarations of their own.

"Our foe leaves us with little choice," said Matriarch Benezia. "No declaration of war, no chance at an agreement of peace…yet my heart tells me that a war with the Covenant will only bring us death and sorrow."

"Yeah, well my _fist_ tells me that the total twenty million casualties the Covenant inflected on us in the last few years won't go unanswered!" Called Matriarch Aethyta.

"Too long have we stood by without acting, while the humans faced this monstrous foe on their own!" Said Sparatus. "I say, no more!"

 _Yes,_ thought Stanforth. _Too bad it took the Covenant attacking your own people to recognize them as a threat…_

The Admiral quickly banished those thoughts; had it been the other way around, he would have done the same thing

"Then let it be said for all to hear, that the Citadel Council will officially declare war on the Covenant!" Said Tevos. "Once more, the Citadel Races march to war."

Admiral Stanforth nodded in appreciation. Maybe now that the Covenant would be fighting someone their own damn size, they'd leave mankind alone. "I am aware of the Citadel's numerous fleets. The UNSC has no accurate estimates of how many ships the Covenant has."

"We are aware that gathering information on such an elusive enemy can be difficult," Councillor Valern patiently said. "Any and all information you do possess is welcome."

"Then I shall continue this presentation. Thus far, the largest group of Covenant vessels ever documented at the same time, numbered in the hundred."

He inserted the image file and the holographic projectors produced the blurry outlines of the many dozens of Covenant warships that had been documented a few years back. Even seeing that fleet again made the Admiral feel uneasy. He hoped that the Citadel could match the Covenant's blistering firepower.

"Because of the Covenant's tendencies to appear and subsequently win in multiple theatres of war at the same time, coupled with the staggering amounts of resources they are willing to allocate to the war, we believe their navy to be large enough to outnumber ours. As such, we designated the smaller groups of warships as Task Forces, roughly equivalent to UNSC Battle Groups. We believe the Task Forces are smaller parts of a larger Fleet, as seen on this image. If someone could show me the footage of the last Covenant group you witnessed…?"

One of the Matriarchs interacted with the holographic display and the image of the blurry fleet seamlessly transitioned into captured footage of a small group of Covenant warships, with roughly a dozen visible vessels.

Admiral Stanforth crossed his arms. Back with the UNSC, almost every meeting he had attended had resulted in multiple Generals and Admirals bickering with each other over the pettiest of things. Not here; the Turians, Asari and Salarians were dead silent. Perhaps that had something to do with the knowledge that the Covenant forces they had faced up to now were only a small portion of an actual fleet.

"Just as we thought, a Task Force. Not a Fleet. We do not know the amount of existing Covenant Fleets. They could number in the low dozens, hopefully, or in the hundreds. In which case, all the Council races _must_ rally themselves for the cause."

One of the Primarchs muttered, "And maybe the non-Council races, too…"

A few of his fellow Turians shot him a dirty look, just like two of the Matriarchs.

Suddenly, Admiral Stanforth wasn't so sure of the Council races' solidarity anymore. He had read about the non-Council races and the rather disastrous events surrounding them; the Krogan Rebellions, the Quarian-Geth war…if push came to shove, the USNC would contact those species as well. If they had to unite the entire galactic community to face the Covenant, so be it.

"Moving on. All details pertaining to this meeting will be shared in the form of data packages. However, UNSC Fleet Command felt that a more direct approach would induce the necessary motivation to circumvent the more bureaucratical approaches."

Matriarch Aethyta snorted. "Hah. I like him."

Stanforth pretended he didn't hear that.

Councillor Valern frowned "Understandable. However, I do hope you know that, while obstructive, bureaucracy is the proper way to get things done."

"Agreed," said Tevos. "It takes time to rally the fleets and marshal our forces. Galaxy-wide mobilization is a difficult thing to achieve, even with months of time."

The Admiral sighed. "Then I hope the following information will change your mind. We have encountered several types of warships in the last twenty years. I will go over these, ranging from smallest tonnage to the largest tonnage."

Two of the Spectres silently entered the room, bringing with them a plate of refreshments.

Stanforth took a sip from his own flacon and continued. "The first is the Heavy Corvette. Clocking in at 900 standard meters, this one is the smallest of their warships."

At least two of the Turians nearly choked to death on their drink when he revealed that information. Several people started whispering to each other, even as the Admiral loaded an image of the Corvette.

"Spirits, that is the size of our Dreadnaughts!" Cried one of the Generals, Oraka. "How are we supposed to beat these monsters if their smallest ships match our most powerful ones?"

"By an unfortunate design oversight," Stanforth calmly replied. "This Corvette lacks shields. It is one of the very rare, if not the only class of warships that we can match one versus one. You should have an easy time disabling them with mass accelerator weapons."

They appeared relieved at that. Any relief they expressed, however, disappeared when Stanforth continued. "The Covenant Frigate, one of the most common ships. Estimates put them at 1000 standard meters, equipped with energy shields. They are armed with pulse lasers as well as plasma torpedoes, but lack other weapons."

The Admiral clicked the image of the bulbous Frigate away and replaced it with the next in line; the distinctive image of a Covenant Destroyer. "The Destroyer-class warship, no counterpart in the Council Fleets. It is extremely well-armed, with multiple point-defence pulse laser turrets, Plasma Torpedo launchers, a single Energy projector and a full complement of fighter. These plasma weapons can boil through two meters of armour plating in seconds and as far as we have tested, kinetic barriers offer no protection."

"I can testify to that," said one of the Matriarchs. "They decimated our Cruisers with single hits. How do we avoid destruction at their hands?"

Stanforth grimaced. "I'd say by dodging…except there is no dodging these torpedoes. They can manually guide their plasma, making it impossible to take evasive action with larger ships. If you're nimble, and fast enough, you can temporarily avoid them and destroy the ship guiding the plasma. Moving on…"

The Admiral took the gathered Councillors, Primarchs, Generals and Matriarchs through the Covenant's vast amount of dedicated warships. He saw the tell-tale signs of despair and desperation as he advanced to the larger warships, just as he saw in young human Commanders when they first heard what they were going up against. And yet, he also saw determination and steel resolve. These aliens hadn't had a conflict this large in a thousand years, but that didn't mean they were about to lie down and give up.

The Covenant was attacking their worlds, killing their people by the millions -of course they would fight.

Stanforth just hoped that this war with the Council wouldn't prompt the Covenant to increase their own assaults on humanity. They were barely holding on as it was.

At least the Batarian Front was holding up much better than the Covenant one.

~0~

* * *

 **Citadel News Report**

" _Good evening everybody. I'm Emily Wong and today, I'm bringing some shocking news. Two days ago, the UNSC Colony of Elysium in the Skyllian Verge was brutally assaulted by a combination of Batarian armed forces and mercenary gangs. A declaration of war was sent beforehand and arrived with the UNSC's headquarters on fortress-world Reach mere minutes before the assault took place. Luckily, soldiers on shore leave, militia-members and armed civilians were able to repel most of the invaders within hours after the attack."_

The Batarian bartender in Chora's Den groaned and buried his face in his hands. The stupidity of their corrupted government knew no bounds…he was _very_ lucky to have his Ogre friend by his side today. He didn't know how humans did their things, but Liminals were _very_ aggressive to those they perceived as a threat, especially the female ones.

" _One soldier in particular stood out in the raid. Though she prefers to keep her identity anonymous, the brave Liminal soldier single-handedly held off an entire army of Batarian soldiers for an entire day, saving hundreds of lives in the process. The Marine Corps spokesman declared that the soldier should serve as an inspiration and example to all military personnel. As of yet, the UNSC isn't willing to divulge details when, or even if, they are planning a counter-attack. We can all only hope that this war will end peacefully."_

The bartender sighed. Peacefully…knowing his people, that wasn't going to happen. Mankind wasn't going to let this slide.

And knowing _them,_ they were probably loading their guns even as he was contemplating this…

 _~0~_

* * *

 **09:44 Hours, July 28** **th** **, 2546 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Aboard UNSC Frigate** _ **Tease It,**_

Eight years. It had been eight long years since the Batarian Hegemony had shown the UNSC that their civilians weren't safe, even when living their lives underneath the Citadel Council's noses, far away from the Covenant. The Hegemony had funded an assault on the garden colony Mindoir, for no goddamn reason other than greed and spite. Thousands had lost their lives. Even more had been taken for a fate even worse. Mere hundreds had survived. Among those survivors was a scared, wounded little girl. Beaten, bloodied and deeply traumatized.

But that was eight years ago. Now, that little girl was all grown up, and she had turned into a full-blown force of war.

The recently-promoted Captain Anderson watched his girl face off against three men in the boxing ring. They were out of uniform, wearing only shots, shirts and boots. All of them were heavily muscled, lean and fit. The others stood gathered around the ring, eagerly watching the fight.

They had the traditional tattoos burned onto their arms: FEET FIRST INTO HELL.

Orbital Drop Shock Troopers were among the UNSC's most effective Special Forces. They were tough. They were dependable. They were brutal.

They were getting their assess handed to them.

The Helljumpers in the ring shouted, punched and kicked like their lives depended on it, but it didn't do them any good. Their opponent took their hits like a brick wall and, in turn, hit them like a train.

One soldier took a kick to the sternum and got flung into the ropes. His momentum carried him through and he fell backwards out of the ring and into the arms of two of his friends, who were laughing and cheering at nobody in particular.

A second soldier tried to grab his opponent from behind and in a headlock, but he took one glancing hit from a tail-whip and got knocked on his ass for his troubles.

Captain Anderson crossed his arms and smiled. Dracosa Victorias had grown up nicely.

She was a spectacular sight to behold and a true representative for the raw, physical might of her species. The lean muscles that rippled underneath her scales were rock-hard and shrugged off blows that would have left any other Liminal winded. Her claws were sharp enough to rend steel and with her wings, she could propel herself between opponents with startling speeds.

She was a beauty to behold.

One of the Helljumpers landed a hit on her exposed stomach, right at the spot where the sturdy green scales gradually transitioned into pale skin, and all it did was hurt his hand. He tried to follow up with another series of punches, but Dracosa was much faster. She slammed her forehead against the soldier's face and he crashed to the ground, writhing.

The fight was over within half a minute after starting. The Helljunpers dragged their bruised, battered behinds out of the boxing ring and Dracosa hopped out, not even bothering to tell the men goodbye.

Her attitude and behavior caused her a lot of trouble within normal Marine units. Being able to function near ODST's and _only_ ODST's wasn't a good thing.

"Get yourself checked out with doctor Chakwas," Anderson told the men. "You're no use to us if the Batarians can kick your ass in close quarters."

The largest Helljumper flashed him a grin. Brutality against fellow soldiers or not, they still recognized authority. "Don't worry sir. My grandmother can kick Batarian ass."

"Didn't she pass away last year?" Commented one of his buddies.

"Exactly!"

Roaring with laughter, the soldiers left the sport hall. Dracosa lingered near the boxing ring, staring at a patch of blood on the ground.

Anderson looked at the girl. When he had first been contacted about her, a rough three years ago, he had immediately pulled all stops to get her under his wing. She had kept his dog-tag throughout her childhood and remembered him by them. In those three years, he had taught her discipline, tactical thinking and most importantly of all, restraint. In turn, he had read up on Dragon biology and psychology to help mentor her, to help steer her away from her violent urges, which had become a sort of second nature for her.

She was eighteen years old now. The process to get her signed up hadn't been entirely legal; she had been too young and the psychiatric tests hadn't exactly turned out positive.

Anderson had been… _persuasive…_ and very lucky that his contacts were _just_ in the right position to help circumvent some of the more ethical restraints.

And when he looked at her, he couldn't help but wonder what else she could have possibly done with her life if he hadn't fought tooth and nail to get her into the army. The girl was a killer, in body and in mind. She didn't talk and didn't socialize. When she was on duty, she dispatched of her targets with brutal efficiency and when she wasn't…well, when she wasn't training, she just sat down somewhere and waited. Sometimes even for hours at an end.

Waiting for the violence to start again.

From what little insight he had gotten into her life, it had been like that ever since Mindoir.

"That was a nice fight," Anderson eventually commented. "And you held back. Restraint."

She gave him an angry look. She clearly didn't like having to do so. On the previous raids, against small pirate groups and mercenaries, she had displayed the ability to mutilate her foes with glancing misses and outright kill with single strikes. Fighting with human soldiers, even ones as tough and crazy as the Helljumpers, was no more a challenge for her than fighting with children.

"We'll be hitting Torfan in twenty hours from now," he continued. "It's a staging point for the Batarian military."

That name rang home. Her reaction wasn't anything serious, but Anderson had basically raised her for the past three years. He knew his girl. He saw the way the muscles in her jaw tightened, the way her wings tremored ever so slightly.

They'd be putting an abused young woman against her abusers. Either she'd function that much better for it, or she'd break down.

"Spy drones revealed little infrastructure on the surface, but the spooks are confident it's the place. If that's the case, there'll be an extensive tunnel system. We're expecting close quarters."

And Anderson definitely saw the little smirk that played over her features. He chose to ignore it for now; he didn't want to get on her case when nothing had happened yet. "You might want to prep your gear first."

She snapped off a brisk salute and then brushed past him, heading towards the exit.

Anderson hesitated for a split-second. There were a dozen things he wanted to tell her, not all of them related to combat, but he didn't even know where to begin. They weren't even there yet.

He tightened his fists and sighed. _She's not your daughter,_ he told himself. _She's not._

Twenty hours to Torfan. His crew probably needed him on the bridge; he had a ship to pilot.

~0~

* * *

 **Citadel Standard Calendar: 2178**

 **Skyllian Verge**

 **Unregistered lunar colony: Torfan**

Deep within the honeycombed tunnels systems underneath the surface of Torfan, within an elaborate bunker system, Jardon Sarok, commanding officer of the established Batarian contingent on Torfan, found himself waking to the ear-splitting whine of an omni-tool alarm.

His subordinates were thankful; one had not experienced true suffering unless one attempted to concentrate near a snoring Batarian officer.

Said officer grunted and raised his right arm. The orange light of the holographic display was much too bright for his two sets of eyes and he quickly tapped the command to deactivate the bright lights.

The blaring noise was deactivated after that.

"Accursed thing…what?" He grumbled.

The omni-tool was being very vague. It looked like one of the old spy-drones had detected contacts appearing right in the middle of the system, much too far away from the Mass Relay to be ships. But the spy-drone seemed to register them as a fleet, which was why it had activated a tight burst transmission to the communication post on the surface.

Which in turn had woken him from his slumber to alert him.

Damn them.

Jardon opened a link to the communication outpost. "Lak! You worthless dog, what did I tell you about waking me up without a reason?"

" _You'll chop me up and feed me to the Varren, sir."_

"Exactly! So you better apply protein-sauce to your feet soldier, because I'm going to slice you to pieces!"

" _Alright sir, but you should hear this first. We've got a whole mess of unidentified vessels approaching the moon. Ghost signatures. The Third Fleet is going to make visual contact within twenty seconds!"_

Ghost signatures…what utter nonsense! That hadn't been heard of since…

Jardon felt his blood run cold. That hadn't been heard of since Erszbat.

The Batarian officer broke records that day, racing towards the sensor array. To his men he might have appeared as a blur, speeding past them and filling them with a sudden desire to snap to attention.

Still, it took him a few minutes to reach the sensor array. Due to the bunker-like nature of the underground bunkers, nothing in the main complex could be reached by a single elevator.

By the time he reached the array, most of his crew was already running around like headless LOKI's, minus the exploding part.

"Sir!" Cried one of his subordinates. Jardon didn't know who; he hadn't bothered to learn their names. "Enemy contacts! At least twenty enemy warships are engaging the Third Fleet!"

The Batarian Third Fleet existed out of sixty vessels; Frigates, Cruisers and even a mighty Dreadnaught. They possessed enough firepower to scorch planets and crush any rivalling fleet. But when the UNSC -for who else could possibly hope to challenge them?- possessed ships that followed a completely different method of scaling, that firepower was severely diminished. Their Frigates were Cruisers, their Cruisers were Dreadnaughts and their Dreadnaughts cheated.

So when he heard that the enemy had arrived in-system with a measly twenty-five vessels, he hesitated. Not because he was afraid.

…well, because he was afraid. Erszbat had had a fleet too, and it hadn't done them any good.

"They're hailing us!" Interrupted one of the technicians.

Jardon swore that he would drag the technician around the base by his entrails and glared at him "What?"

"On-screen now."

"By the Wargod's left moustache," muttered Jardon.

It was the UNSC's encryption. It was as sure a sign of the signals' authenticity as the High Chancellor's signature.

"We are under attack," he hissed. "Prep our infantry, our Varren, our mechanized units, our vehicles, our gunships!"

After a brief pause, his logistics officer looked at him. "Shall I prepare everything?"

"YES!"

A man appeared on-screen. A man, luckily, not a monster. " _This is Admiral Hackett of the UNSC_ Hollander. _Am I speaking to the man in charge?"_

"You sure are!" Growled Jardon. "Come here for a little payback, human? Perhaps, you hope you will find your lost people here? Hah! Not likely!"

" _If you have any noncombatants, civilian or otherwise, stationed on Torfan, you have about ten minutes to get them out of there."_

Jardon crossed his arms and smirked. "Or what? You're going to gass them like you did on Erszbat? Do your worst You won't get us here, you two-eyed waste of skin. Such arrogance, it confounds me! You think we believe your propaganda tales, your sad nonsense? If-"

" _So be it,"_ Interrupted the human. And then he simply cut the signal.

Ignorant bastard. Jardon would have sworn to personally skin the disgusting filth himself, but he was too assured by the superiority of his fleet to bother. What use would it be, when the human's ship would be reduced to floating atoms in a few moments?

No, this wasn't a threat to his base at all. He'd leave the army on standby. In the meantime, he had some sleep to get to.

Torfan was a fortress. A complete and utter fortress. The honeycombed systems and bunkers made it a tactical nightmare to invade. A few hundred could easily repel a few thousand.

But it would never get to that. After all, his people had been voyaging through space for centuries.

Yes, Jardon assured himself of the superiority of his fleet. The defenders of Erszbat had been a bunch of pirates and mercenaries. They had been trained for this.

These human, who did not even know how to use Element Zero, what could they possibly know? What did humans know about ship-to-ship combat?

~0~

* * *

 **07:23 Hours, July 29** **th** **, 2546 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Aboard UNSC Frigate** _ **Tease It,**_

Roughly thirty minutes after emerging from Slipspace, men such as Admiral Hackett, Commander Keyes and Captain Richards assisted the UNSC's battlegroup in completely wiping the Batarian fleet out. Roughly ten minutes after that, Captain Anderson ordered his crew to get their Frigate back to the rendezvous point.

It was time to start the invasion.

The solitary moon of Torfan was far from an idealistic place to invade. It was the ideal feeding ground for pirates, slavers and all the mercenaries that they could possibly want. A hive of criminal activity, now further bolstered by the Batarian military.

But the UNSC had cracked tougher nuts, and they had a special ace up their hole.

The Spartan super-soldiers. Somewhere in the UNSC fleet, aboard a ship that didn't even know it, four of humanity's greatest warriors were getting ready to haul in yet another victory.

Anderson hadn't believed it when the public announcement had been made on Wavecom. He had it a propaganda stunt, a desperate ploy cooked up by the Office of Naval Intelligence to compensate for the irreplaceable losses suffered the past few years.

And then the footage had started popping up. Not just the propaganda video, but helmet cams, tacpad videos and even pictures taken from high altitude.

And they all showed the exact same thing. Seven-foot tall super-soldiers clad in special armor, kicking all sorts of alien ass.

And rumor had it that these Spartans were going to participate in the upcoming fight as well. And while Anderson had never been one for sensationalism, knowing that the UNSC would be employing these guys on Torfan as well helped soothe his worries.

There were very few ground defenses on the moon. The _Impending Kickass_ was the first to brave the volleys of mass accelerator fire and promptly used its point defense weapons to annihilate the ground defenses.

Captain Anderson saw it happen on-screen. While he could definitely see the point behind weapons using the Mass Effect to allow for rounds fired at amazing velocities, there was just something special about seeing a salvo of 70mm rounds used to annihilate ground defenses.

However, as the battlegroup began swarming the moon with dropships and close-air support, it became obvious that they weren't simply going to "invade" anything.

Torfan's stronghold was a whole lot like the infamous mountain of ice that had sank the Titanic. A little piece of it could be seen sticking out of the surface, but the vast majority of it was hidden underneath it. If what little intelligence they had been able to gather was correct, the actual base of the Batarian military was hidden hundreds of meters beneath the surface of the moon.

To say that the Batarians were entrenched was an understatement.

They _could_ have opened fire with their MAC's and try to crack the moon open, but as always, they didn't know if there were any slaves or prisoners stashed away. Recon teams had reported holding pens around some of the lesser-damaged bunkers, just like the ones on Erszbat.

So any assault had to happen on solid ground. They wouldn't be able to sneak any armor inside that complex and their air dominance didn't mean a thing.

Captain Anderson ordered his crew to scan the surface of the bunker complex again. They found nothing.

Damnit.

This was going to get very, _very_ complicated.

~0~

* * *

 **08:55 Hours, July 29** **th** **, 2546 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Torfan, grid twelve by twenty-four**

~0~

Lieutenant Lillim Shepard was starting to really hate the Batarians. There were a grand total of _two_ entrances to the immense underground bunker and only two of them were viable to assault with a concentrated force. For the last sixty minutes, the UNSC had mapped the surroundings, searched for alternative entrances and coordinated the invasion force, all without actually trying to storm the defenses.

At least there was normal gravity on this worthless chunk of rock.

The first two attempts to attack the entrances by force had resulted in failure. The entrance _she_ needed to worry about was a massive killzone; turrets, mines, overlapping fields of fire, everything a successful military needed to keep attackers at bay

And so Major Kyle, in charge of overseeing the ground assault on entrance one, was desperately trying to find another way in _without_ sending more soldiers to their deaths.

She could see him argue with one of his officers. Because Torfan was a moon, there wasn't a lot of air around. That meant the UNSC had to air-drop in their own command modules, firebases and structures for what was going to be a very prolonged attack. But those had yet to be properly installed.

Sergeant Arisa, Lillim's second-in-command, joined her in watching the silent spectacle unfold. " _What are they saying?"_ He asked via TEAMCOM.

"I have no idea," she replied. The only thing she could hear over the comm beside her comrades in arms was some lunatic barking orders that seemed utterly trivial. "Without any sound, it just looks like a bunch of helmets bobbing up and down."

" _Yeah, it does look ridiculous. So, what's the plan?"_

Lillim shrugged. "We wait. It's no use charging in. The Major better have a good plan, or we're all going to choke to death out here."

The Lizardman crossed his arms. " _Alright. Is it just me, or do you sound…annoyed?"_

Annoyed was the wrong word. Lillim was ready to dismember someone with her bare hands, but there wasn't a proper word for that.

Well, murderous, but that was far too vague.

"I hate vacuum. Can't move my wings, tail's all bulged up and my helmet looks stupid because it needs to envelop my horns, too…how's a girl supposed to kill like this? They're not even letting Silva command us."

" _Kyle looks competent. Let's just be glad it's not another Zero-G op."_

Oh, she remembered alright. It had taken the squad an hour to get Jackson back down again. For some reason, the Heavyweight had this stupid fascination with flying and he had flat-out _refused_ to simply reactivate his thrusters and get back down again.

Speaking of Jackson…"Where's the big guy, anyway?"

Arisa gestured at a group of normal Marines, who were being instructed by one of the very few Centaurs around.

"So _he's_ the lunatic I've been hearing," Lillim said with an exasperated sigh. "What's he even doing?"

" _Instructing the fresher Marines, Shepard. Telling them about trigger discipline and unit integrity."_

"The amazing flying Centaur, now also a drill instructor. Heavens, as if dealing with a bunch of sadistic slavers wasn't enough…"

" _It's how he deals with waiting. Centaurs males aren't known for their patience, remember?"_

Shepard scoffed. "He should hang around Lin more often. He might learn something."

Last year, her squad had been reinforced with two more Helljumpers. Corporal Hall, a Raptor Harpy, who was currently rummaging around a supply crate to search for her shotgun. Private Lane, a Ghoul, serving as another heavy-hitter.

She wasn't going to go easy on them just because they were new. If and only if they could survive this mission, she might reconsider.

It took the techs another twenty minutes to get the Firebases running, after which all soldiers were to report to the closest one for a debriefing.

The Elder Devil was relieved for the breath of fresh air; she despised operations in vacuum such as these.

As it turned out, Major Kyle still hadn't dealt with the problem of the closest entrances being killzones.

"Goddamn Batarians," the human cursed as he frantically looked over the holotable. "We've finally got them by the balls…they're too well-defended. Any unit we send in is going to get slaughtered."

"What about-" One of the officers started, but he suddenly cut himself off.

Lillim sensed their presence before the ever saw them, but she still turned around to confirm her suspicions, even as the entire room grew deathly quiet.

They were human. The one in the lead stood over two meters tall and looked like he weighed hundreds of kilograms. His armor, still in the same condition as when she had first laid eyes upon him, was a strange, green alloy, with matte black underneath the plates. His motions were precise and graceful, like those of an Elder Devil with centuries of experience.

Lillim smiled upon recognizing the Spartan. "Master Chief, sir?" She said.

The Spartan nodded at her before making his way to the holotable, where Major Kyle was struggling to keep himself composed.

"Major Kyle, sir," said the super-soldier. He snapped off a quick salute, which the Spartan following him replicated.

The Major shakily returned the salute. "I…Master Chief?" He said, likely identifying the man with his HUD.

"We have devised the optimal approach. With your permission, we would execute it."

"Approach?" Kyle slowly repeated. "What for?"

The Master Chief's helmet cocked quizzingly to one side. "To take the Batarian stronghold by force, sir."

"That's suicide," muttered the Major. "They've turned the entrance into a massive killzone. Anyone who goes in there will get shredded."

"I volunteer to join the Master Chief, with you permission?" Shepard then said. She looked at the Master Chief, trying to gauge his reaction.

His helmet didn't move a millimeter.

It was very likely that he was studying her from the corner of his eyes, pretending to ignore her.

Lillim had lived for more than two centuries and she had developed the ability to read any sentient being to an almost perfect degree.

But not this man. This Spartan, this…Master Chief…was an enigma to her.

the media treated his kind like some sort of ultimate weapon against the Covenant. She was eager to find out if that was true.

"Lieutenant Shepard?" Said Kyle. "The hero of Erszbat herself. Are you really willing to throw your team into the grinder like that?"

"In my experience sir, one has to be willing to take a risk if one yearns for victory."

The Major thought her request through for a few moments. "Fine. Master Chief, I'm giving you the go-ahead to execute your plan. Lieutenant Shepard, you are to do everything in your power to assist him. If you do manage to breach their defenses, you are cleared to eliminate all armed forces."

The other squad leaders around her stayed remarkably quiet. So even humans, with their dulled senses and pitiful mental abilities, could sense that there was something off about these Spartans? Splendid.

When Shepard and the Master Chief exited the Firebase, the other Spartan promptly broke off and headed to a different direction.

No visible prompt, no sign of a spoken order.

"So, Master Chief," Lillim told the Spartan. "I assume you have a daring plan to infiltrate the bunkers and eliminate their defenses?"

His helmet turned ever so slightly as he addressed her. "Our missions is to take Torfan from the Batarian Hegemony, Lieutenant," he said calmly. "To do that, we're going to have to kill every last one of them."

The Elder Devil smiled. "I like that reasoning."

~0~

* * *

 **09:14 Hours, July 29** **th** **, 2546 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Torfan, grid eleven by twenty-four**

The hour had passed, and the time for waiting was over at last. Dracosa Victorias had grown impatient. Her blood ran hot, her skin itched and the dark hunger inside of her grew stronger with every passing second.

But it was finally time. The soldiers that had been sent to assault the monsters' den with explosives and fire had failed to report in and were deemed lost. Now, it was her turn to partake in the killing.

She was not the only one. There were others, too. Soldiers clad in black, soldiers clad in green. Humans and non-humans. Some of them greeted her, as they had shared the same ship.

Draco ignored them. They were of no importance to her.

She heard Anderson talk to them via her helmet. Anderson, the old warrior, the leader, informed them that the time was up and that they had permission to do it their way.

Underneath her air-sealed helmet, the Dragon-girl allowed a hungry smile to play over her features.

 _Finally._

As instructed, she undid the safety pin of her rifle, a gesture that was soon repeated a dozen times over as the rest of the soldiers prepared for the killing as well.

They emerged from the command building and headed straight towards the den carved in rocks.

Draco felt her instinct flare with every silent step she took across the desolate surface of this dead world. It wrestled away the control that the training gave her and she overtook the other soldiers, taking the lead in their assault.

 _Restraint_ , Draco told herself. Her heart was pounding, but she managed to retain control. She stayed in formation.

They soon reached the frontlines. The smashed remains of two unmanned cannons hung limply from the stone wall that concealed the entrance to the underground den, where her prey was hiding in the dark, thinking that they might escape the slaughter.

Fire erupted from multiple hidden positions and the unit scattered, seeking shelter behind what little cover the open field offered.

Dracosa knew better than that. Even as everybody broke off the attack and sprinted towards safety, she broke formation and darted ahead. Powerful muscles and lightning-fast decisions allowed her to cross the desolate field of fire before the automated cannons brought her barriers down.

She slammed against the double set of doors that the monsters had desperately closed behind them. With trained precision, she pulled a grenade from her belt, pulled the pin and counted the beating of her heart.

One.

Two.

Three.

She threw the explosive upwards. The grenade lodged itself between the face of the cliff and the metal frame of the cannon, which exploded into a cloud of metal fragments. The detonation reverberated through the stone floor and Draco raised her rifle, expecting the monsters to try and fight stab them in the back while they dealt with their machines.

That didn't happen. The soldiers managed to reach the set of doors just like she had, leaving only two dead bodies in their wake.

One of the soldiers brandished a device on his wrist and started undoing the mechanism that kept the doors locked.

It slowly opened.

" _Everybody in!"_

Draco found herself in a small, square room, with the exact same set of doors blocking their way again. It frustrated her, seeing that the monsters were determined to stay hidden.

She should have known better. They were vermin and like vermin, they were too frightened to face their predator.

It mattered little. She would find them all the same.

The soldier started opening the second set of doors the same way he had opened the first, but then the process suddenly stopped and he stepped back.

Draco growled with frustration. Now what?

" _They've cut the power,"_ said the soldier. " _They're shut."_

Draco brusquely shoved the man aside and then dug her gauntleted claws into the crack between the doors. She braced herself and pulled the doors apart at the seams, grunting with exertion. They slowly slid open.

" _Whoah,"_ said one of the soldiers.

" _Quit staring and cover the lady! I'm reading hostiles at the other side!"_

Two soldiers flanked her, shoved their sidearms through the opening and opened fire right as several of the monsters emerged from their hiding space, weapons at the ready.

She changed her footing and readjusted her grip on the doors. She flexed and pushed, shoving the doors open completely.

The soldiers were now able to open fire completely and they cut down the approaching monsters, but more took their place. One of them leapt atop a mounted cannon.

Dracosa felt her pulse quicken as she beheld her prey.

Finally. The hunger within her reached its peak and she _pounced_. The several meters between her and the first of the monsters melted away in an instant and she leapt atop his cannon, leering over its controls at the very first kill of the day.

It scrambled for its gun, but Dracosa was so much faster. She lashed out with her left hand first, slamming her fist against its helmet and shattering it to pieces. She followed up with another punch to its now-exposed face, pulping it.

She felt the front of its skull shatter underneath her gauntlet and she felt a shiver of delight shoot through her spine. Oh, how she had _longed_ for this…

She discarded the carcass from the turret and immediately intercepted her second opponent, one of the trigger-happy monsters who had escaped the lines of fire from the other soldiers.

Dracosa impacted on the creature with enough force to shatter its ribs even through its armor, but she barely noticed it. She lashed out with her leg and sent the monster sprawling to the ground, after which she smashed its head in with her fist.

The helmet practically exploded, covering the floor with bits of skull and splashes of dark blood.

" _Hah…that was brutal."_

" _All clear! Move ahead, watch those corners! We got to take those defenses offline!"_

As they advanced through the bunker, passing by several dead bodies of the previous team, they made their way through a set of sealed doors into an area with breathable air. Draco, eager to possess another advantage in the cramped tunnels, undid her helmet seal and attached it to her belt.

Two of the soldiers stopped and stared at her, but their comrades shoved them to get them moving.

She found her prey to be resistant. They had set up large chambers with superior sight and good shelter. They filled the air with fire and death, as if knowing what fate awaited them if they let up for even a second.

Draco lost sight of the humans in her group. She split up from the soldiers and, through her HUD, disengaged the air-seal on the back of her suit. The briefest of tremors ran through her wings as the seams parted, allowing her to finally flex them. They emerged from her back and unfolded to their full size, displaying to all of her prey who was the hunter, and who was the hunted.

She jumped atop the first barricade, three meters up, right in-between a trio of the four-eyed monsters. These ones were not wearing any helmets. Their faces were bare, their hideous hide and sickly, mottled skin further accentuated by the dim lighting.

Draco's chuckle went unheard as she claimed the first one. It had turned its back to her, perhaps because it was trying to fend off the other soldiers.

It didn't matter why.

The Dragon-girl pulled her victim to the ground by the back of its head, before brutally slamming her claws into the monster's exposed throat, tearing it apart. The creature lay there flailing and choking to death on its own blood as she felt the tips of her claws touch the metal floor underneath and she felt her excitement _grow_. There was no sound so satisfying, so _exhilarating_. .

Pain, Dracosa believed, was the purest form of expression. It was the only thing she had ever known, the only thing that seemed to quench the hunger that dwelled within her.

The other two monsters noticed her incursion and turned to fight her, but they were so slow. As the first one turned to face her, she lashed out with her right arm and pulverized its throat with a quick jab.

Draco took a close look at the two sets of eyes that seemed to bulge out of its skull now. Her prey was almost begging her for it…

She plunged her clawed gauntlet into the monster's face, driving the tips of her fingers into its four eyes.

The screeches were cut short when she dug too deep and the monster promptly died. So she ripped her hand free, shook off the blood and other fluids and quickly disarmed the second creature before it could attack her.

Draco ripped its rifle from its hands and slammed the butt of the weapon against the monster's face, shattering its jaw. She then proceeded to grab the alien by its throat and, nails first, drove her other hand straight through the monster's abdomen.

The four-eyed creature howled in humorously high pitch when Draco encountered meager resistance in the form of its spine and promptly broke through.

It too did not survive past the next few moments.

Dracosa discarded its worthless carcass and surveyed the area. It was a large bunker with two levels. There were holes everywhere she looked and the monsters were using them to attack their group from all directions. Already, three soldiers had perished under the combined gunfire.

Their target was in the next room, where the automated cannons were preventing their other soldiers from making their push. And there were so many of the monsters, too.

" _Suppressive fire!"_ Cried one of the soldiers.

The Dragon-Girl watched the sole entrance to the turret nest. Even in the stale air of the underground bunkers, she could _smell_ it. The alluring scent of bloodshed and conflict, of death and domination. She yearned to be in the thick of it, tearing through the skin and flesh of the four-eyed monsters, coating the walls in their blood.

They were all animals ripe for the slaughter.

~0~

* * *

Inside the Hegemony's bunker, chaos reigned. The Master Chief charged ahead, firing short, controlled bursts at any opponent he saw. Blue-Two kept her position at his right flank, roughly three meters away, laying down covering fire for the single ODST squad that was following them in.

The Chief didn't work often with Liminals, but he knew that the UNSC extensively recruited them into just about every branch they had. They were gifted in fighting the Covenant in close quarters, but they were also very dangerous combatants when fighting _against_ humanity's best interests.

Blue Team had gone up against Liminal terrorists under employment of the Insurrection, as well as the highly-trained Black Fang terrorists. His Spartans knew better to underestimate them.

All in all, it wasn't a big surprise that an all-Liminal squad of Helljumpers was among the first ones inside the cavernous stronghold. Still, he was surprised by the sheer diversity in their team. A Centaur, an Empusa, something that looked like a Lizardman and even a Harpy. Beyond that, he had no clue what this Lieutenant Shepard and the other ODST were.

Apart from the fact that the Lieutenant had horns, of course.

Still, that made it difficult to estimate their abilities.

He had waved Blue-Three and Blue-Four through a side tunnel, hoping that they would find a way to shut down the turret nests that the Batarians had built into their complex. Thus far, they had neutralized two.

His motion tracker indicated contacts behind them and the Chief spun around, wondering how the SOB's had managed to get behind their lines so fast.

Two Krogan dropped down from an alcove above -one that they had missed on their way in.

One of the hulking creatures slammed into the Centaur ODST, while the other aimed for the Lizardman, who managed to leap aside in time.

Centaur and Krogan crashed to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs, shouts and curses. The Master Chief saw the second Krogan charge at the Lizardman ODST, who emptied his sidearm into the creature's chest in an futile effort to stop it.

He knew that the Jumper wouldn't get a kill-shot in time and signaled Blue-Two to assist. As Kelly tackled the overgrown toad to the ground, the Chief turned his attention to the Centaur.

The boisterous Sergeant and the Krogan were both shouting like madmen, but they weren't sounds of distress. In fact, the two sounded like they were actually enjoying themselves.

The Master Chief slowly lowered his gun. The Centaur punched the Krogan in the face, after which the Krogan punched the Centaur in his face. And then the Centaur punched again. And then the Krogan. Neither combatant even _tried_ to guard themselves. It was almost as if they were allowing the other to hit them.

He sighed. Liminals. He would never understand them.

The Lieutenant actually seemed amused by the slugfight; as Blue-Two swiftly dispatched of the second Krogan, the Helljumper said, "Between the legs, Jackson. Hit him between the legs."

"Yes ma'am!" Came the strained reply, after which the Centaur threw the Krogan to the ground and crushed the plating in the fork of its legs with a powerful stomp.

Even the Master Chief winced.

The Centaur finished off the alien berserker with a healthy application of several 7.62mm rounds and then huffed. "Piece of cake."

Kelly glanced at the Chief, who gave her the subtlest of shrugs. _Don't ask,_ he told her.

The next five minutes were a tactical nightmare as they advanced through a maze of cramped tunnels, literally crawling with aliens.

The Batarian Hegemony seemed rather fond of hiring outsiders to do their dirty business; the Master Chief round a corner and was jumped by two Vorcha at the same time, both of them trying to go for his face.

The Chief immediately brought his arms up to defend himself and grabbed the two ferocious aliens in mid-air. They were like Jackals, ambush predators with vicious tendencies.

And just like Jackals, their bones offered them zero protection as the Spartan crushed their limbs with unyielding gauntlets, snapping their limbs with simple movements. He caught one of the aliens between his elbow and the rock wall to his right, crushing its skull. The second one didn't fare much better as he pulverized its spine with a quick boot to its back.

It was over in a matter of seconds.

"Hah. Brutal, sir!" Called the ODST that the Chief hadn't been able to identify. It was a male, that much he knew for certain.

Occasionally, Blue-Three and Blue-Four reported in with casualties inflected on the enemy. Their nests were falling, but they were everywhere. Supposedly, there were even tunnels underneath tunnels, like an entire spider-nest underground

" _Something's wrong,"_ said Blue-Two. The last group of enemies had made run for it instead of holding their ground. " _These positions are too fortified. They wouldn't abandon them."_

"Roger that. We'll keep an eye open."

Kelly was right; even Krogan and Vorcha turned and fell back the moment they appeared. They couldn't simply be cowering; there had to be some sort of plan.

The two groups made their way to what appeared to be a central control room, one of several, in fact. There were multiple consoles and other screens built into the walls. Some were still active.

John held up a fist and signaled the ODST's to stop. Something was wrong. "Blue-Two?"

Kelly took out a scanner and surveyed the room. " _Clear. No traps…wait one. Can't be right."_

"What?"

" _I'm reading micro-explosives, as well as primed grenades."_

"Where?"

" _Directly where we're standing."_

The Chief slowly looked up and glanced at the ceiling. The way the room had been built, a single well-placed explosive could level the entire command centre.

He didn't trust it. "Lieutenant, take the squad and move them through that exit. This place might be rigged."

Shepard nodded and barked a few sharp orders at the rest of the Helljumpers, who immediately snapped to attention and started evacuating the room.

One of the consoles flared to life. The Master Chief turned to face it, weapon at the ready.

It was a Batarian, smiling smugly at them from what was presumably a safe location. " _Human scum!"_ It barked. " _You think you can simply waltz into this galaxy and take over our worlds? Our homes? The Council might buy your Covenant sobstory, but we won't! When we're through with you, we will-"_

Shepard pressed one of the buttons and the channel suddenly switched to a different room. The Chief saw two Batarians standing against a wall, hands at their crotch. One of them peeked at the other and then laughed. " _I win!"_

The other Batarian punched him.

Shepard pressed the button again and the Batarian commander was back, appearing dumbfounded.

"Done yet?" Said the Lieutenant.

 _What?_

" _Did you just switch me off?"_ The Batarian said, incredulous.

"My dear, you were rattling on. Get to the point, would you?"

" _Right. Ahem. Your army won't escape here alive! This place will become your tomb!"_

Multiple red lights started flashing across the ceiling.

"Move!"

The Master Chief and the Lieutenant shouted the order at their teammates at the exact same time. Explosions detonated and blasts of thunder and fire rolled through the command center, washing over the Master Chief even as he threw himself atop the Lieutenant to shield her.

Then, everything went black.

~0~

* * *

 **Torfan Stronghold command center 2**

The Batarian officer paced furiously through his command room, fuming with anger . How? How had _one_ human team fought its way through his entire stronghold? He had thrown dozens of soldiers against them, killed off all but one of their soldiers and it was still coming!

"Is won't die!" Shouted one of his men. "It's still advancing!"

Jardon Sarok was the last remaining experienced Batarian official officer in the stronghold of Torfan. He would hold the line here, or get executed for incompetence at his homeworld. There would be no losing for him. "This place is a fortress! We have _every_ advantage! How the hells does this thing still breathe? What about the mines?"

"Either bypassed or destroyed, sir."

"The Varren?"

"Dead, sir."

"The flame troopers?"

"Dead, sir."

Jardok screamed with frustration. "The Special Forces?"

"Engaging-"

Jardok felt his heart leap with hope.

"Dead, sir."

Chairs were flung through the room that day.

"Grah! Enough of this! Tell Nakmor Krall that he and his band of warriors have free reign."

"But sir-"

"I do not care for collateral damage! This thing fought through our defenses, killed every single soldier we threw at it and slaughtered our best men! It needs to _die!"_

The other officer audibly swallowed. "A-aye sir."

~0~

* * *

Deep within the stronghold of Torfan, where cowards and heroes parted ways, raged a battle the likes of which Nakmor Krall hadn't seen decades.

Humans were weak and easy to kill, but their females, their "Liminals"…they were a completely different story. The finest killers in the galaxy, according to some of the Krogan who had seen them in action.

And here, the old Krogan Warlord stood, watching what had to be the most ferocious predator not native to Tuchanka cut loose.

The Warlord rumbled with laughter as he watched the Dragon tear through the feeble, thin-skinned Batarian troopers. Somehow, somewhere, the girl had acquired a Shotgun and she was now using it like any worthy Krogan should; partially like a weapon for extreme close quarters and partially like a big club that could be shot at the same time.

It was definitely a female, and Nakmor had not seen such a magnificent creature in _centuries._ She was rage. Brutal, without pity. Even through her light armor, the mammalian glands that the Asari were clearly visible, though they possessed little charm to him. No, it was the lean, powerful muscles that rippled underneath her skin and scales that riled him up. Her tail was like a Thresher Maw, lashing out without warning and crushing everything in its way.

Her claws were like the blades of old, made for ripping and tearing. Even her face, shapely and lovely, possessed a weapon without equal in any sentient species.

One of the lucky Batarians came too close and she pounced him, ripping into his throat with razor-sharp teeth.

While the younger Krogan in his krantt were shouting demeaning profanities at the creature and trying to nail her with their shotguns, Nakmor knew better. It was like someone had lit his ancient heart with the undying flames of Aralakh.

Oh, she was such a magnificent force of destruction, he wanted her to bear his children! He wanted to conquer her in single combat and have her within his krantt!

And, for reasons even the old Warlord himself didn't understand, he also wanted to cuddle her and feed her bits of meat.

Nakmor sighed and pushed aside those wishful thoughts. Conquering first, credits second, females third.

He leapt off his platform and directed the younger ones to take her. The three Krogan charged the Dragon which, instead of backing off to gain more room, actually met them head-on.

The first Krogan bellowed and charged, obviously intent on breaking her with a mighty headbutt. It was such a pity that the female stopped his charge dead in its tracks by swiping his legs her tail, audibly breaking at least two of his bones as she did.

The second one attempted to pummel her skull in with his shotgun, but she intercepted the blow mid-swing and kneed the offending youngling in the quad, causing Nakmor to groan with sympathy. One didn't attack a quad. It was simply not done. He would have to teach her manners-

The Dragon wrestled the barrel of the shotgun against the second Krogan's skull and, despite the youngling's desperate struggles and whimpering, pulled the trigger, coating the wall with orange gore.

By that time, the third member of Nakmor's present krantt clashed with the female and slammed her against the stone wall with enough force to shatter it. He then whipped out a massive knife and tried to stab her to death with it.

The girl deflected the youngling's attack with her arm, then headbutted him in the face. The first Krogan tried to assist his krantt, but took a claw to the face and howled with pain as the nails tore through his thick skin like the belly of a pyjak.

Then, the Dragon shattered the massive knife of the remaining Krogan and proceeded to jam the broken blade into his left eye-socket.

The warrior howled with pain, but received no mercy. The Dragon threw him to the floor and, with a clawed boot, stomped him right between the legs.

Nakmor winced. What a way to go!

The Dragon then proceeded to grab the quivering Krogan by his skull. With a low hiss and a shower of orange blood, she ripped the plate from his face.

At that, Nakmor felt a chill run down his spine. How did this creature discover the one Krogan weakness?

No matter. His krantt had existed out of weaklings and younglings. An aged Warlord like himself should be able to easily wrestle her into submission.

So he discarded his shotgun and picked up his warhammer.

"Mighty warrior!" He bellowed. "Join my side! Together, we can usher in a new era of greatness for my Clan!"

In response, the Dragon growled at him and opened fire with her shotgun. The mass accelerator rounds were stopped by Nakmor's incredible barriers however.

The best that credits could buy, in fact.

"At least tell me your name!" He demanded, rather indignantly.

She fired her shotgun until it overheated, after which she discarded the weapon and menacingly approached the Warlord.

And the Warlord had to admit, she looked a little bit less than the ideal partner and more like a hungry Varren.

Well, Nakmor had tamed Varrens in the past.

He huffed. "Hah. Fine then. More fun this way."

He raised his hammer and prepared himself to deliver upon the Dragon a blow she would long remember, but she was faster than she looked. She leapt for him and threw her entire weight behind a blow to his stomach, sending him stumbling backwards at least two meters. She mercilessly followed up with a series of punches that would have killed any lesser Krogan regardless of their ability to heal.

But Nakmor Krall was a special Warlord; his regeneration abilities were only matched by his sheer toughness. Contrary to what most outsiders believed, Krogan skin was not impenetrable to small arms fire.

His, however, was. And what little damage firearms would cause, quickly healed itself

Nakmor took her hits in stride and, when he saw the opening, countered with a powerful uppercut of his own.

Again, the girl moved faster than she looked and she dodged his blow, only to pounce him again from a different direction.

She was worse than a rabid Varren; she attacked him like a Blood-rager, with more ferocity than he had ever seen any alien display.

She ripped into his thick skin, gouging gaping wounds into his flesh. She shattered a section of his skull, broke several fingers as he tried to land a punch on her stomach and found it better armored than a Tomkah and even destroyed one of his lungs with a particularly-nasty kick.

The pain was terrible, but refreshing, and soon the Warlord felt the tendrils of his own blood-rage creeping up on his mind. He tried to push them away, remain rational, but the girl continued beating him to death without giving him any quarter.

Forget claiming a prize; if he didn't finish her soon, he might well die himself!

The Krogan Warlord screamed with anger and threw the girl off of him with both of his arms, desperate to gain some space. He rushed to pick up his hammer and activated it with his omni-tool, sending arcs of electricity down the metal head

"Hehehe…"

And _then_ the blood-rage hit him. It flushed away all thoughts and reduced his world to one of violence, blood and death. Colors became blurry, awareness faded away.

With a mighty shout, Nakmor charged.

~0~

* * *

Rocks of varying sizes and shapes clattered to the ground as the pile of rubble near the major exit of the boobytrapped Batarian command center trembled and slowly fell apart, revealing the still very much alive Spartan One-One-Seven.

John slowly shook his head, shaking off the blurriness. His MJOLNIR had absorbed the worst of the damage.

Lieutenant Shepard, however, wasn't moving.

The Master Chief sighed and stood, freeing himself and the fallen Helljumper from the tomb of rocks. He saw that they were the only two still left inside the room; the rest had managed to escape just in time to avoid the trap.

He quickly winked his status light, showing his Spartans that he was still active. Then, he gently picked the motionless Lieutenant from the ground. She still wasn't moving, but he had to make sure she was still breathing. If she was, she was simply knocked out by the detonation. If she wasn't…well, he'd have a different problem in his hands.

The atmosphere inside the room as safe, so he reached for the Helljumper's helmet and slowly pulled it off, taking care not to tug too much on her curved horns as he did. Will-043 had once expressed admiration for the way technicians could make BDU's and combat armor for every Liminal species willing to fight for the UNSC.

The helmet came off, revealing the unmistakable visage of an Elder Devil.

Despite decades of training and discipline and the current situation, the Master Chief still felt a flutter in his heartbeat.

There was something breathtaking about Shepard's appearance. A sort of haunting beauty, which lingered with him longer than it should.

Deja's warning echoed through his mind. _Never cross eyes with a Devil._

It had been three decades ago. More, even, but he had never quite forgotten that lesson. How a single Devil Liminal could turn around entire armies with but a single word, turn nations against each other with but a glance.

Doctor Halsey had told them that the eyes weren't the mirrors of the soul, as poems and the media often cited. They were the doors.

And you didn't want to let a Devil in.

The Master Chief sighed. She was a Helljumper, not an Insurrectionist or terrorist. He wasn't going to worry about UNSC personnel trying to mess with his head.

That, and she was unconscious, which had to count for something.

The Spartan was still checking to see if she was breathing when her eyes snapped open. Her sclera were black and her irises yellow.

"You have rough hands…" She muttered.

The Chief frowned, then realized where he was holding her.

Ah.

He quickly let go of her and the woman climbed back to her feet. "Humans are always so…inquisitive. Could you not have asked?"

He raised a skeptical eyebrow; Helljumpers had always been mouthy, but this was something new. "The explosion knocked you out," he replied. "I needed to check for signs of damage."

The Devil ran her eyes across the room, taking in the ruined remains of the command center. Her gaze stopped at the spot right in front of the door, where the Chief had plucked her out of the rubble. "Yeah, so I see. That would be the second time you saved my tail."

"I do not believe your tail was in immediate danger."

The Lieutenant glanced at him. When most soldiers looked at Spartans, they did so with a mixture of awe and fear and suspicion. The Chief always hated that. But when _she_ looked at him…he didn't see any of that.

No, what he saw was a hint of amusement, expressed via a sly smile. She seemed a lot more comfortable around him than most soldiers did.

And that made _him_ somewhat uncomfortable.

"Oh…" she went, and her smile faded somewhat. "That is new…" She recovered quickly, however. "So, my knight in heavy armor, where do you suppose our squad went?"

The Chief gestured at the door, which was fully blocked off. "They've moved on. We need to find another way out."

"Well then…lead the way."

~0~

* * *

 **Torfan Stronghold command center 2**

Jardon Sarok could _hear_ the fight taking place. Nakmor Krall was a Krogan Warlord, a rare and powerful specimen of the already-impressive Krogan race. His secret trump card, as the saying went. The Warlord's regenerative abilities and incredible durability made him an even match for _ten_ human warriors, no doubt.

That infamous Liminal prowess would meet its end today, he was certain of it. "All cameras to the hallway! Let us feast our eyes on the slaughter of this Carnifex of our forces.

As per his orders, his Salarian technician played the footage of the aft hallway, where all sounds of combat were coming from.

He expected to see the Warlord brandish the soldier's head. He expected to see the Krogan roaring as it stood atop the lifeless body of the UNSC goon. Hells, he wouldn't even be surprised if his crew bore witness to the execution of the interloper!

Well, he got his execution. Just as every last soldier within the command center bunched up together to watch the screen, pinning their last hopes on the mighty Krogan Warlord, they saw said Warlord getting his head ripped off in a most violent and visceral display.

Everybody went silent as the large, armored head fell to the ground, splattering the walls with orange fluids. A gore-splashed monstrosity was leaning over Nakmor's decapitated corpse, slowly rearing upright to glare at the active camera.

The sight of the interloper filled Jardon Sarok with dread. Its wings were sticky with blood and bits of flesh. The creature's tail was slowly and methodically moving back and forth and its claws were slick with blood.

A trail of red blood was still visible on its lips, which parted into a sadistic grin.

One of the officers shut the camera footage off. Silence reigned in the command center.

"Well," Said one of his fellow soldiers. "We're boned."

"Nailed in every way."

"Utterly screwed."

"Maybe we should surrender?"

"Silence!" Roared Jardon. "I will not surrender here, do you hear me!" The mere thought of surrendering Torfan to these butchers made him livid. It was their strongest stronghold, their best stronghold. "And there is not a single reason you can offer me to make me change my mind!"

A dozen set of double eyes were directed to the door, where the metal boons that kept it locked from the inside were slowly moving.

"I locked that door myself!" Called the Salarian technician. "There is no way she'd get inside, that door could hold a Krogan Battlemaster!"

The speed with which the metal parts were moving increased and slowly, the door creaked open. A clawed gauntlet appeared in-between the seam that appeared, slowly ripping the door open.

The mechanisms that could have held a Krogan Battlemaster gave in and the door was violently pulled open, revealing the predator who had ripped Nakmor's head off.

Jardon Sarok thrusted his hands forwards, wrists together. "I surrender."

But the figure that stood in the opening of the door, splattered with red blood, didn't seem to care for that. She cracked her knuckles -a surprisingly-Krogan gesture- and then pulled the door close behind her.

The only exit.

She started advancing on them.

"I give up!" Yelled the first, after his nerves broke. "I give up! Don't kill me!"

The monster didn't listen. She was on him in an instant, faster than any organic ought to move. She ripped off one of his arms and crushed his skull with it, before kicking the dead body to the ground.

The air was filled with a crescendo of _I surrender's_ and _don't kill me's._ However, it was mostly screaming and crying. And soon after the Butcher entered the command center, all pleading and curses turned to high-pitched agonized screaming.

~0~

* * *

Lieutenant Lillim Shepard continued to follow the Spartan through the narrow, sparsely-lit hallways. Every now and then, they would encounter meager resistance in the form of Vorcha, Krogan or Batarians, but the hallways proved to be more empty than one would think.

The Elder Devil had always taken pride in her ability to instantly read and gauge any Liminal or human upon making eye-contact with them. It was how she had survived the centuries of violence and hatred that marred mankind's history, and it was how she had maintained a commanding position in frontal combat. There were very few species whom she could not read and even those, she would eventually come to understand.

And yet this man…this Master Chief…he eluded her. Completely and utterly. He was an enigma, a mystery, an impossibility.

That did not happen to her often.

The "Spartan" intrigued her, yes, but he also frustrated her to no end. What little response she managed to provoke from him, granted her invaluable insight in his character, but it was so _little_.

His was either the most complicated mind she had ever encountered, or the simplest. And she refused to believe that it was the latter. The UNSC seemed to take immense pride in these super-soldiers. They would not have revealed their existence to the civilian population to such a degree if they didn't.

So the Master Chief was obviously more than a brainless automaton.

"So Spartan," Shepard said, slapping a new magazine into her SMG. She had emptied the last one into a squad of melee-happy Vorcha. Silly things had failed to even scratch her. "Do you have a name?"

"Affirmative," Said the soldier. He rounded the corner of a new corridor and lowered his rifle when he faield to find any targets.

"Which would be…?"

"Classified."

Shepard rolled with her eyes. Damnable ONI spooks…"They classified your name?"

He didn't respond to that.

 _I do not believe your tail was in immediate danger_

Literal-thinking or humorless. Extremely protective of his identity or lacking a proper identity. If her memory served her right, he had flung himself atop of her to protect her from the collapsing ceiling. He wasn't without compassion, or a strong sense of duty.

A soldier to his core, or a weapon without a sense of self? At this point, Shepard honestly didn't know.

As the Master Chief declared the next section to be clear of hostiles, the Elder Devil took point. His mission was to clear this stronghold from all hostile forces and she would help him do just that. However, she still had her team to find.

The last thing she heard from Arisa, her squad was assisting their own knights in shining armor. How many of these Spartans did the UNSC have? And why employ them against the Batarian Hegemony and not the Covenant?

Shepard pushed those questions to the back of her mind when she entered the next room and ran into five armed Batarians, all of them dropped their guns and surrender the second they saw her.

"That was easy," she muttered. "On your knees, hands on your head." She then turned to the Master Chief, intent on asking him if he had any reinforcements coming in.

His answer consisted out of the clattering burst of an automatic weapon. Three of the five Batarians were dead before the Lieutenant could act. She grabbed a hold of the Spartan's weapon and tried to lower it, but she might as well have been trying to pull an oak down.

So she stepped in his line of fire, forcing him to hold it.

"Master Chief, what are you doing?" She demanded. "They are surrendering!"

She could feel his stare burning at her, even from underneath that mirrored visor of his. "There is nothing in my mission parameters that says I have to accept attempts at surrender. Now step aside, _Lieutenant."_

He stressed the last part, which reminded Shepard that he was ONI; a Special Forces soldier whose orders likely overrode those of hers.

But how could she let this continue? "It's not about mission parameters. It's about doing what's _right_. I know they're monsters, I have seen the results of their actions first-hand! But we have to better than this, better than them!"

The Master Chief still glared at her and he didn't lower his gun. Nevertheless, she let his silence speak for him, and continued. "What's the point of fighting for humanity of we become monsters ourselves? We may be at war, and these are enemy combatants but I refuse to be judged by their standards!"

What followed were the longest, tensest few seconds that the Elder Devil had experienced since setting foot in this place. Neither them said a thing, which made the begging and pleading of the terrified Batarian soldiers even worse. She didn't know if they were slavers or simply grunts doing what they were told, but she wasn't going to compromise her morality with hatred.

"We have no way of preventing them from turning on us when we continue," the Spartan eventually said.

"Yes, we have," countered Shepard. "If you lower your weapon, I will show you."

Slowly, the Master Chief lowered his rifle. He still kept his finger on the trigger however and the Lieutenant had no doubts who would be faster if the aliens tried something.

She carefully undid the seal on her helmet and pulled it off. Aliens were harder to read than humans and Liminals, but she still noticed the way their all-black eyes tightened when she did. Had she been facing any other foe, she might have been amused by that. She was very much aware how she looked to the other species. And if they had any sort of instinct or gut-feeling to protect them, they'd be more frightened than mesmerized by her appearance.

Well…going by that logic, there wasn't a single soldier in the UNSC Marine Corps in possession of basic instinct.

The Elder Devil knelt down in front of the two remaining prisoners, doing her best to avoid the puddle of blood.

Batarian eyes were so dark that they could have been made out of coal. Still, it made no difference to them as she put them to sleep within mere seconds after having made eye-contact with them.

The two slumped over, colliding with each other before they hit the ground.

An awkward silence followed their hypnosis-induced slumber. Luckily, it didn't last long. The Master Chief marched over towards the other side of the room and said, "My team found a way out. Most of the infantry and mechs has been eliminated."

As he told her that, the Elder Devil heard the communication software in her helmet bursting with static. She quickly strapped it back on in time, just in time to hear Sergeant Arisa tentatively ask if she was still alive.

How endearing.

"I'm here," she told her second-in-command. "We've…neutralized the hostiles. Two prisoners."

" _Prisoners? Don't tell that to Jackson; he'll think you've gone soft, Lillim."_

She glanced at the Chief, who effortlessly pulled the heavy door off its hinges and scanned the next tunnel with his rifle.

"Not soft enough, sometimes. So, what is the situation on your end?"

" _You wouldn't believe it ma'am, but the Batarians are surrendering."_

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You don't say. "

" _En-masse, actually. They're shaken up something fierce. Nobody's coordinating them anymore. Did you and the Master Chief take out their command center?"_

"No, we've just mopped up pockets of resistance. I was hoping you were responsible for that?"

" _No ma'am. It must have been the teams at the other entrance. But we've got reinforcements pouring in from all sides now. I'd say Torfan is ours now."_

"Just keep your head on a swivel. It might be a trap. I will see you soon."

" _Of course ma'am. Good luck."_

After that last transmission, Shepard turned to look at the Spartan. He was waiting for her to move up as well. She wasn't sure why.

The Master Chief was huge. Now that she saw him standing there in the opening of the door, she realized just how huge. Easily seven feet tall, if not more. Nothing compared to the likes of an Ogre, but he was human.

At least, she thought so. In all truthfulness, he was an impassive, fearsome soldier obviously built for death and destruction. It was hard to imagine a man underneath all that armor.

But Shepard was old. Very old. She had seen so many things, the best and worst that humanity had to offer. It helped her put matters in a different perspective. Where everybody looked left, she was able to look right.

So it made her wonder what sort eyes this man had. How old and weary they might look. After all, she was fairly certain that the propaganda was a lie. This wasn't a man who had been selected, this was a man who had been _made_. And, quite possibly, from a very young age as well.

Shepard took her position at the Master Chief's side and together, they moved deeper into the stronghold.

~0~

* * *

 **23:14 Hours, July 30** **th** **, 2546 (UNSC Military Calendar)/**

 **Aboard UNSC Carrier** _ **Impending Kickass**_

Finally, David Anderson understood why the UNSC liked to keep their Carriers for the protection of the Inner Colonies. It wasn't because they were so rare, or because they could take and dish out tremendous amounts of punishment.

It was because of their massive bars. And right now, the best and brightest from the operation on Torfan were making good use out of the _Impending Kickass's_ bar. It wasn't an Officers' Club -forbidden territory for all NCOs- but it was still classy.

There were massive tables made out of solid oak, multiple bars stocked with a rainbow collection of bottles of liquor and heavier stuff and couches everywhere. The room's dark walls were polished to a rich glow. Upon the wall hung multiple gold-fringed blue flags of the UNSC's symbol, as well as dozens of plagues, photos and paintings.

This time, the grunts outnumbered the officers. They had performed sublimely down in the narrow, claustrophobic constraints of the moon's fortress. They had breached the stronghold's defenses, annihilated its defenders out of hiding and dragged the cowards out of hiding.

The Spartans were nowhere to be found, of course. No, this moment of glory was to the mortal men and women of the UNSC Marine Corps and Helljumper Regimes.

It was such a shame that Dracosa wasn't awake to see it. The girl was lying with her with head against Anderson's shoulder, fast asleep. Without her armor, she looked so petite, so vulnerable. Almost like the little girl he had met on Mindoir.

He wondered what she dreamt about. Victory, perhaps? The victory that she won, almost entirely on her own down there?

Or perhaps she dreamt about other, lesser sane subjects. In war, things got so confused. Ethics and morality got flung out the window and more often than not, a simple engagement could turn into a desperate and insane struggle for survival. Those dark, merciless moments could push a soldier to the edge and sometimes, over it.

Dracosa hadn't neutralized her enemies. She had slaughtered them. Butchered them in a tranquil state of rage and hatred. Even a full day after the assault, UNSC brass was still trying to figure out how she had done it. An entire army of Batarians and Krogans, dispatched of in the cruelest of ways.

But Draco got the job done. Accomplished what an entire unit of Helljumpers couldn't and cleared more than half of the stronghold on her own. She deserved a little rest.

Anderson patted her on her head, running his thumb along the smooth surface of her horns.

 _She's not your daughter._

But he was her CO. _And_ her mentor; his training had made this possible.

He didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

With the entire fleet still in transit in Slipspace and a massive victory over the Batarians underneath their belt, there was very little the soldiers could do except celebrate.

Already, rumors were starting to spread regarding the nature of their victory. Rumors surrounding the Spartans, certainly, but also rumors regarding his girl. "The Butcher of Torfan" they now called her. And that wasn't necessarily a compliment. Some of the men would salute her, claiming that she got the job done like any Marine should and that she was welcome in the campaign against the Covenant.

Others would avoid her, and then talk behind her back about the people who died during the assault. That she had murdered people who were trying to surrender, that she could have shown mercy.

Anderson noticed an interesting distinction in combat zones and deployment with those soldiers; veterans soldiers of the Covenant theatre generally approved of her actions, while those who disapproved were generally stationed in the Attican Traverse and Council space.

Anderson didn't care what Dracosa had done; he was just glad that she got out in once piece.

"You did good, kid," he softly said. He slowly stood and gently placed the Dragon-girl with her head on the couch, so he wouldn't wake her. "Real good."

He needed another freaking drink.

~0~

* * *

 **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: SPECIES: DEVILS**

 _The Devil Race, known sometimes simply as just "Devils", are a humanoid Liminal race that sports, horns, black sclera, bat-like wings, and tails that end in spade-like points. As a race, Devils are highly variable with such things as wing size, wing strength, horn size, horn count, tail shape, and even possibly physiological body type._

 _Though the Lesser Devils are never seen in combat positions due to their childlike appearance and mentality, it is not rare to see Greater Devils serving in combat positions. While they are still older than their young appearance would suggest, most Greater Devils sign up out of youthful ardor and desire to see excitement and action. Depending on the theatre of war, this mentality rarely survives longer than a few months._

 _Elder Devils are often guided by a sense of greater purpose and desire to serve their people as a whole. They are often employed as senior officers or civilian advisors, due to their great wisdom and experience. Their charisma is unmatched among the Liminal population of humanity and because of that, most people consider it unwise to ignore an Elder Devil's advice._

 _Devils lack the durability or natural weapons that most Liminal species possess. Because of this they have to depend on their nigh-unmatched flexibility and mobility to stay alive on the battlefield._

 _The Devil Species' true strength comes from their eyes. Abilities displayed by Devils in combat positions are exemplified by but not limited to the ability to:_

 _Induce hallucinations._

 _Induce a deep trance or slumber._

 _Plant suggestions and thoughts._

 _Read people to an almost-supernatural degree._

 _ **Addendum:**_ _"Alright, which funny guy added "shoot lasers" to the list? We are running an Intelligence Branch here people, we don't mess around with the codices!"_


	10. 1,7: Daily life with doomsday devices

**AN:** _it took me ten chapters, but we're finally there. All AU elements I added in the story, up to and including the war with the Batarians and the Covenant attacking the Citadel species, were necessary for me to get to this point._

 **~0~**

* * *

 **Citadel Standard Calendar: 2178**

 **UNSC Military Calendar 2547**

 _Thel 'Vadamee relieves his sister as the Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice for a planned joint-assault in UNSC-controlled space._

…

 _UNSC AI Cortana enters operational service._

 _Project MJOLNIR is initiated._

…

 _Conflict within ONI erupts when a Dullahan reveals that she cannot sense the soul of Preston Cole in the afterlife, suggesting that Preston Cole is still alive. Due to the sensitivity of the matter, this information is not revealed to the public._

 _Codename: SURGEON is assigned to investigate this matter further._

…

 _Asari colony Lessuss is glassed._

…

 _Actias-Thorax Industries, a major shipbuilding business ran by Mothman and Honey Bee Liminal families, contracted 2500 Quarian engineers from the Migrant Fleet for the shipyards at Reach and Tribute. The desperation for cheap and skilled workers takes precedence over the stigma usually related to Quarian individuals._

…

 _UEG colony Skopje is glassed._

…

 _Lacking reconnaissance abilities to map Covenant territory for potential Citadel-UNSC led counter-attacks, the UNSC and the Turian Hierarchy collaborate on an engineering project co-sponsored by the Citadel Council: an experimental Frigate with a stealth system, the UNSC_ Normandy.

…

 _Salarian colony Erinle is glassed._

…

 _Salarian Councillor Valern decides that the best way to counter the Covenant is to combine UNSC technology with technology from Council races. Plans for an experimental Destroyer with a stealth system are underway._

…

 _The UNSC scores a strategic victory on Anhur, defeating Batarian forces occupying the planet. Economic facilities evacuated from systems lost in the Covenant Theatre are quickly placed in-system. Permission to construct at least two Orbital Defence Platforms is granted._

 _..._

 _A second Batarian attack on Elysium lasts for three minutes before resulting in a complete UNSC victory. Three HORNET nuclear mines are detonated amidst the Batarian fleet as they emerged from the Mass Relay, resulting in near-total casualties. Surviving crews quickly surrendered and the Batarian warships were taken in to be repurposed for the war effort._

 _Zero UNSC casualties were reported._

 _~0~_

* * *

 **Citadel Standard Calendar: 2179**

 **2548 UNSC Military Calendar /**

 **July 17th**

 **0000 Hours**

 _Ensign William Lovell logs a large gravitational anomaly inside Slipstream space in the Sigma Octanus Star System._

…

 **0300 Hours**

 _Commander Jacob Keyes, commanding officer of the UNSC Destroyer Iroquois, realizes that the large mass is in fact a Covenant Task Force and moves to engage._

…

 **0330 Hours**

 _The UNSC_ Iroquois _destroys all Covenant vessels save for the carrier using a manoeuvre later known as the Keyes Loop. The carrier launches landing craft toward Sigma Octanus IV, then retreats into slipspace. UNSC and Hierarchy reinforcements arrive hours later._

 _The Covenant forces proceed to engage the UNSC reinforcements planetside. Despite Jiralhanae-led forces "assisting" Sangheili-led forces, the UNSC manages to defeat the Covenant in Côte d'Azur._

…

 **July 18th**

 _All Covenant vessels either retreat or are destroyed. The battle concludes._

~0~

* * *

 **Aboard Turian Hierarchy Dreadnaught** _ **Atoning Warriors**_

General Solitus watched the Covenant Cruiser break apart under a hail of mass accelerator rounds. Internal explosions chained up the length of the massive ship and fire and debris burst from the CCS-Class, which proceeded to tear her apart.

The last alien vessel -a Destroyer-class- was gutted by two MAC's at once, and she exploded into a fireworks bouquet of shrapnel and sparks.

"Hah!" Yelled one of his officers. "Take that!"

The voice of UNSC Admiral Stanforth broke through their communications channel. " _That was the last of them. All Covenant vessels neutralized. Brilliant work, everybody. This system remains in UNSC hands."_

At that, the entire crew of the _Atoning Warriors_ erupted into cheering. Soldiers clapped each other on the back, shouted profanities at the burning wreckages of Covenant warships or simply raised their fists to honour their fallen comrades.

Solitus crossed his arms and nodded, only held back from celebrating with his crew by years of discipline. He never thought he would live to see a day where the Covenant was bested in space warfare, yet here he was, having personally caused the destruction of three of his hated foe's warships.

With the Hierarchy's help, Sigma Octanus IV remained a human-held world. Thirteen million souls had been saved.

The soldier within him kept Solitus from thinking of this engagement as a total victory, however. Ten human vessels had burned, along with six Turian ones. Tens of thousands of civilians had lost their lives and they had outnumbered the Covenant two to one. Had the bastards sent the same fleet in as the one that was now burning worlds in Council space, they would have lost completely.

And one victory among the dozens of losses was hardly a compensation.

But they had won. Turians and humans had fought the Covenant and won a complete victory. There was hope.

And that counted for something.

~0~

* * *

 **August 30**

 **0447 Hours:**

 _The remote scanning outpost Fermion in the Epsilon Eridani System detects an incoming object in Slipspace as well. The object is estimated at three thousand kilometres in diameter._

 _An emergency message is relayed to FLEETCOM. The outpost then self-destructs per the Cole Protocol due to an unsecured science library._

 _~0~_

 **Citadel**

 **Citadel Embassies**

 **Ten days later**

Councillor Sparatus was enjoying his morning patrol through the Citadel Embassies that morning. He had no idea about what had happened. His people had completely failed to inform him. He _knew_ for a _fact_ that neither Valern nor Tevos knew what had taken place either.

The first sign that something was terribly, terribly wrong was when he made his way through the Embassies. There were plenty of human and Liminal politicians working on the ground of the Tower. Their diversity and overall pleasantness made stopping by their embassies in the morning a very enjoyable experience. Indeed, it often made for an excellent way to start his day. The people there always had time for a quick chat, despite their busy work.

When Sparatus entered their embassies, he didn't hear any conversations. No laughter, no yelling, no secretly-indecent behaviour.

What he heard was silence, broken only by heart-wrenching crying and sobbing. He saw humans and Liminals consoling each other while barely able to contain their own grief, without a single exception. The occasional Asari, Turian or Salarian could be seen among them, partaking in the sorrow.

There wasn't any sound in Council Space that quite like the lamentation of a Liminal woman. Their emotions were so unbridled, so untameable, that it made their distress that much harder to bear.

It was devastating.

Sparatus felt his mandibles quiver. What in the name of the Spirits could have happened?

A horrible thought formed in his mind.

 _Not Earth,_ he thought as he quickly made his way towards a computer terminal and logged in on. In his desperation to find something to dispute that horrifying idea, he mistyped his password at least twice. In the end though, the terminal accepted his credentials and allowed him access.

There, the very first news UEG news broadcast he stumbled across spelled it out for him with such bluntness that he had to read the headline three times before his brain processed it.

 _Reach falls: the future uncertain_

"Spirits…" he muttered. He could feel his eyes prickle with heat. "Spirits…"

Not Earth. Just as bad. Arguably worse. Reach…was the UNSC's strategic headquarters and their biggest ship-building facility. He had toured the mighty fortress-world once, just two years back. The shipyards of that world could produce entire Battle Groups in months, the orbiting platforms could pump out rounds that could _instantly_ destroy Covenant capital ships in just one shot. It was commonly accepted that the total military force of the entire Batarian Hegemony couldn't take that world even if they had a hundred years.

And now it was gone? Millions of soldiers, seven hundred million civilians, burned from sky without even a hint of mercy?

Sparatus took a moment to steady himself. If Reach was gone, it would take the Covenant mere months to win a total victory in the war. That was what human specialists said.

Plans of all sorts shot through his head, one more farfetched than the other. Plans to take in refugees, arrange for economical support, logistical support, anything that could help humanity.

Anything at all.

He couldn't think of anything.

Sparatus rushed out of the UEG embassy, immediately postponed his appointments for the day and returned to his quarters. There, he contacted Admiral Stanforth, the military representative of the UNSC and their special intelligence branch, the Office of Naval Intelligence.

Fleet Admiral Hood, the man in charge of making decisions for the UNSC's entire navy, answered instead.

Admiral Stanforth had died during the defence of Reach. His flagship, the mighty _Leviathan,_ had burned.

Along with almost the entire defending fleet, including irreplaceable titans such as their Carriers and Supercarriers.

Why? Why hadn't the UNSC informed the Council of this? They could have helped, they could have done something!

Councillors Valern and Tevos joined the conversation with Admiral Hood's hologram as well. Tevos appeared just as shaken as Sparatus did, while Valern performed the daunting task of keeping his face straight quite admirably.

But what military commander could not weep when informed of such a massive loss?

Tevos asked about the Spartans. The invincible soldiers, the indominable warriors. Mankind's best and fiercest special forces.

Admiral Hood didn't answer her question.

The debriefing didn't last long. Files were shared, condolences were offered and Admiral Hood terminated the link when there was nothing else to discuss.

And none of the Councillors spoke to each other afterwards.

The message was clear. With the Epsilon Eridani system in Covenant hands, there were no further major stop points before Sol. Estimates put total human defeat as a matter of weeks. If the mighty Reach was gone, there wasn't a single world in Council space that could withstand the Covenant. Palaven wasn't safe, Thessia wasn't safe and Sur'kesh wasn't safe.

Spirits, even the Citadel wasn't safe.

Councillor Sparatus believed that they had just reached the lowest point in civilized history.

~0~

* * *

 **1903 Hours, September 21, 2548 (Military Calendar) /**

 **Control Room of Installation 04**

Deep within the confines of the massive Forerunner installation, no longer distracted by the wealth of information and knowledge that the construction contained, UNSC AI CTN 0452-9 could only watch as her Carrier endured seven kinds of hell, deep below the surface of Halo.

Her name was Cortana, and she was the most advanced Artificial Intelligence that had ever been created by humanity. Yet inside of the massive Control Room of the Forerunner ring, she felt more like an ant than a superior being. Except ants could still work, could still keep themselves busy. They could _help_.

And while she could most certainly do the former, it was impossible for her to perform within the boundaries of the latter.

Through integrated fibre-optic cameras and other, more complicated manners of observation, she watched the Master Chief fight his way through wave after wave of infected, mutated monstrosities. Once human and Liminal, now repurposed for a single purpose only: to kill and consume.

The Flood. The Buried Horror, the Flesh that Hungered, the Parasite, no matter what they were called, they were absolutely relentless. They were fast, impossibly-fast. They propelled themselves dozens of meters through the air in a single bound, smashed through solid steel with single strikes.

They were doing everything in their power to bring him to his knees.

John-117 was like the others. Strong, swift and brave. His augmentations, coupled with his powerful MJOLNIR, allowed him to shrug off blows that would have killed a lesser man in an instance. He was a blur of motion as he engaged one group of Flood forms, broke off and engaged another one. He fired his weapons until they were empty, plucked plasma weapons from cold, rotten claws and fired them until they were dry, then engaged the horde of abominations in close quarters, waging his life on the sole premise that he could hit and move faster than them.

And he did. Throughout their struggles together, Cortana's Carrier had displayed an almost-supernatural ability to outmanoeuvre his enemies. This remarkable ability to not die by staying mobile allowed him to even neutralize moving vehicles, including a Banshee, on one memorable occasion.

It was the sole reason why he was still alive. Constantly moving back and forth between enemy groups, prying weapons from dead, rotting hands, never once allowed a reprieve. And while he could certainly incapacitate Covenant warriors by breaking their limbs or pulping their organs with single strikes, the Flood combat forms didn't seem to care.

Cortana watched as something that had once been a Lamia ambushed the Chief from behind. He spun around, a fraction of a second too late, and the mass of coiled, rotting flesh and tentacles collided with him. They crashed to the ground in a heap of flailing limbs and contorting body-shapes.

The Spartan shoved the screeching creature out of his face, creating just enough room for him to bring his knee up. He kicked the creature in its sternum, slamming his boot straight through its chest cavity.

All it did was get him stuck in an even worse situation, as he failed to pull his boot free in time and was immediately pounced by another Flood form

Cortana saw it all happen through the Forerunner security systems, but there was nothing she could do. Nothing safe for cataloguing every single slipup and mistake and vow to prevent the Master Chief from ever making them again.

Being blindsided by the Flood form was not very hard to rationalize; the Chief was used to working with a team. His brothers and sisters, his family. The other SPARTAN-II's.

Except they were all gone now. Sent planetside to defend the Orbital Defence Platforms Generators. When the Covenant broke through and started glassing the planet…there was nothing the UNSC could have done.

One-One-Seven understood this. She had gleamed as much from his Neural Interface. He understood that the might be the last Spartan and that the burden of protecting mankind was his to bear. His behavior in combat had yet to reflect this.

Him being alone would get him killed.

The Master Chief managed to disarm the second foe and used the captured enemy to fry the infected Lamia at extreme close quarters.

Cortana felt a measure of relief that made her pause. The Spartan was her Carrier, the one responsible for her mission. If he died, so did their shot at protecting humanity from the Flood.

From Halo.

In essence, his survival was key to her own survival. Yet there was something else, too. She prioritized his wellbeing over matters that ought to be more important.

This was the second time she had experienced that. The first time had been in the Silent Cartographer, where the Master Chief had only barely managed to survive an encounter with a pair of Hunters.

She considered shutting her emotional-subroutine off, then reconsidered. This aspect of her intelligence template was valuable to her, more so than logic dictated.

One-One-Seven managed to fight his way free from the clutches of the Parasite and, in the span of five minutes, scrubbed them all. Before long, the bodies of fallen Flood began to accumulate.

It appeared even human combat forms possessed the raw strength of Liminal soldiers when infected by the flood. Them lacking the natural weapons Liminals did, didn't seem so inhibit them in the slightest. They simply grew a set of tentacles sturdy enough to rent metal to do the job for them or, failing that, simply whacked their prey hard enough to pulp their own flesh.

Then _it_ left her Spartan all on his own again. This Monitor, 343 Guilty Spark. Cortana saw what it was doing. Playing on the Master Chief's lack of knowledge on Halo's systems to coax him into activating it for him, was he now?

Not on her watch.

"Oh, hello!" Cortana could hear the SOB hum through the audio systems. "I'm a genius!"

The Master Chief's hard, gritty voice growled back a response that made her feel oddly proud. "Right. And I'm a Vice Admiral."

Alas, the floating ball of annoyingness was thoroughly immune to sarcasm or any form of witty responses. The two pressed on, with Cortana once again helplessly watching them head straight for another Flood-infested hallway.

The violence lasted for hours, every single second of which Cortana spent observing. The Spartan, the Monitor, the Flood. She needed to understand as much as possible, as soon as possible.

Again, the Spartan slipped up due to a lack of having a teammember watching his back and again, Cortana winced when she realized that he simply couldn't acknowledge that his family was gone.

It was only when Cortana vowed to find a way to change that mindset when she realized she had an alternative. A way to, perhaps, alleviate her Carrier's quiet suffering and loneliness. He had been fighting for at least two days without rest, yet he pressed on without a complaint. Mankind's staunchest protector.

If there was a way for her to find him a new team, a new family, perhaps she could decrease the instances during which the Spartan put himself at risk. It would severely increase his survivability if he had a skilled team of soldiers, too.

This was purely a matter of statistics and logic, really. If One-One-Seven's chances at survival went up, so did hers. And if her chances of survival were high enough, she might even find a way to complete their mission.

Him having a team to watch his back and take care of him was purely a matter of military wisdom. Perhaps it served secondary purposes as well, but Cortana was willing to accept those.

The Master Chief made it to another one of those massive elevators and the Monitor activated it for him.

During the particularly-long time the elevator took before delivering the Spartan to his next fight, Cortana took inventory of the military records she still had in her possession and did some searching. In the span of one second, she went through many tens of thousands of candidates, including several Council Spectres.

Several candidates caught her attention right off the bat. The first was the junior officer Miia Lucifinae, the hero of Elysium, or the Serpent of Elysium, as the Batarian Hegemony now knew her. A Lamia, of the Echidna subspecies. Her combat skills were remarkable; she had held off an entire military assault all on her own, easily claiming more than a hundred kills within the first few hours alone. A real war hero. She had been serving under Keyes for a while, before Keyes got reassigned to the Covenant Theatre. For some reason, the Corporal had been given an M7 designation, but was forbidden from leaving the Citadel Threatre.

Cortana thought she knew why. She saved her profile for future references and moved on. The second candidate was just as renowned as the first, though not in a positive way. Specialist Dracosa Victorias, a Dragon who had proven to be vital for the USNC's victory in Torfan. She had slaughtered all personnel in her AO in the stronghold, including noncombatants and surrendering personnel, as later camera footage would point out. The Butcher of Torfan, they now called her. The Predator of Torfan.

If there was anyone the Batarian Hegemony feared and loathed more than the Serpent of Elysium, it was her.

Well, being ruthless was something that would certainly come in handy in the Human-Covenant war. She had engaged and neutralized hostiles that could have gone toe-to-toe with Elites and live.

Cortana saved her profile as well and turned her attention to a more obscure one. A woman whose service record was nearly as long as One-One-Seven's, which was _really_ hard to achieve.

Then again, Commander Lillim Shepard had about two centuries' time to do so, which made that achievement somewhat less amazing. Somewhat. Still, an Elder Devil with more than two centuries of experience was a vital asset in the field. Whereas most Elder Devils in the military served as advisors or seasoned officers, Lillim continued to serve in the field. Curious.

She had an interesting sense of morality. Saving child soldiers, preventing a Spartan from putting down surrendering aliens, those weren't your average performances.

Cortana saved the Commander's profile as well. There, three possible teammembers should both she as her Spartan survive this mess.

That possibility was looking more slim every passing second.

But as long as _he_ persevered, so would she.

~0~

* * *

 **October**

 **4th**

 _An edict from the Office of the High Prophet of Truth orders that in the virtue of the Jiralhanae, all Sangheili posted with the Fleet of Profound Solitude, the Fleet of Tranquil Composure, and the Fleet of Inner Knowledge to be completely replaced by Jiralhanae. Each removed Sangheili to be assigned other duties. In celebration, all imprisoned or criminal Jiralhanae were released, rehabilitated, and pardoned._

…

 **8th**

 _After learning that the location of Earth is compromised, the Citadel Council sends reinforcements to Sol. The Turian Second Fleet and the Asari Sixth Fleet arrive several hours after the Salarian Third Fleet._

 _Council officials are sent along with the reinforcements to "oversee the proper usage of their Fleets". In no way is their presence related to the planned celebration of the return of the survivors of Installation 04, whatsoever._

…

 _ **Incoming call. ID designation: Spectre SOB.**_

 _ **Audio transcript**_

 _S.A: "Johnson, slippery primate. You survived the greatest catastrophe in human history?"_

 _A.J.J: "I'm a Marine, Arterius. Unlike your pushover race, we're built to survive!"_

 _S.A: "So I've seen. You have my condolences."_

 _A.J.J: "The hell you talking about? Have you been sniffing around Red Sand crates again?"_

 _S.A: "Installation zero-four. Halo. I read the reports your ONI sent to the Council. Your people-"_

 _A.J.J: "-survived, moron. Most of us made it. Keyes, Pattillo, Ramsey and all those whacky navy persons. Even picked up some surviving Spartans on Reach."_

 _S.A: "What- how- that-"_

 _A.J.J: "Can't hear you. You're breaking up. Something big closing in on your location?"_

 _S.A: *Hangs up*_

…

 _Unbeknownst to Spartan-117, Cortana initiates OPERATION: OKAYADO and pulls all suitable candidates for the operation back to Earth._

 _.._

~0~

* * *

 **11:15 hours, October 20th ,2548 (UNSC Military Calendar) \ Aboard Orbital Defence Platform "Cairo". Sol system, Earth.**

Everywhere she went, Matriarch Benezia was regarded as a person of high importance. Exceptions were made, rules were bent and more often than not, her very presence was enough for the event which she wished to oversee to lose its sincerity. It was difficult for a well-known Matriarch in Council Space to oversee any significant event.

This was most certainly not the case in UEG-controlled space. Here, orbiting the human capital world, there was not a single soul who paid attention to _her_. She, along with General Victus and the Salarian Dalatrass Linron, were simply guests. They were welcome and steps had been taken to make them feel welcome, but they did not receive any special consideration.

And for that, Benezia was thankful. She stood among the humans and Liminals as public, on equal footing with soldiers and civilians alike. This day, humanity's attention was directed at those who truly deserved it.

The brave individuals who had survived the great horror that was Halo. There were only a few persons in Citadel Space who truly knew what had actually happened on Halo. Among them were the members of the esteemed Council and the Spectres who had fought in the Human-Covenant war.

So Benezia could only guess at the horrors these courageous souls must have seen. The things they must have done to survive on that Installation…

She, along with Victus and Linron, stood on the bridge of the station as the preparations for the celebration continued. There was a security detail present, of course. Whether they were there to guard the representatives or merely help to shape an image of security, Benezia knew not.

And why should it matter? This was a day of celebration, not of war. They had a beautiful view of Earth, the homeworld. A stunning world, no doubt. If only there was no need for the hundreds of orbiting platforms defending it…

Victus did not seem to mind. He had expressed nothing but respect and appreciation for these weapons of mass destruction. When a passer-by had told them about the destructive capabilities of the "Cairo", Victus had only managed to keep a straight face because of the decades of experience and discipline that befitted a General.

The gathered UNSC personnel snapped to attention. The soldiers near the tram station assumed their positions and Benezia knew it was time.

"Ah," Said Victus. "There we go."

He too straightened his back and snapped to attention.

Benezia merely smiled; who would have thought that the Turians would become such trustworthy allies for humanity?

Small drones fluttered around, taking shots and vids of the survivors of the battle for Halo. Not all of them were coming to Cairo, of course. There were a dozen other platforms where the survivors were receiving their awards, but Cairo was special.

The doors of the tram opened. The heroes of the Halo Installation stepped on deck. Benezia, who had memorized the invitation, immediately recognized them.

Although it was difficult not to recognize _him_.

Spartan One-One-Seven, the Master Chief. He stood taller than a Krogan, but moved with more elegance and precision than many a Matriarch could. He was, without a doubt, the greatest soldier in the galaxy.

Matriarch Benezia couldn't begin to fathom how lonely the man must feel.

The others quickly walked in after the Master Chief.

Captain Jacob Keyes, hero of Sigma Octanus.

Sergeant Avery Johnson, the man who had reportedly saved the lives of Jacob and his entire crew when a mission on Halo went awry.

Flight Officer Carol Rawley, known to the soldiers as "Foehammer". The fearless pilot who had risked her life to get her fellow soldiers to safety.

Members of Keyes' crew were there, too. Lieutenants Pattillo and Ramsey and Ensign Michael Lovell.

Still, Benezia could not help but wonder how many men and women had died on Halo. What could be so horrible that the UNSC was unwilling to share what had happened there? What could be more horrifying than the Covenant?

"Ladies and gentlemen," Said Fleet Admiral Lord Hood. "We're lucky to have you back."

One of Hood's officers stepped forwards and whispered something in his ear.

Victus clicked his mandibles in a gesture of uncertainty. "Something's wrong…" he muttered.

"I apologize," said Lord Hood, "But we're going to have to make this quick."

The Artificial Intelligence appeared on her pedestal and said something to the Master Chief. In a moment of confusion, both the Spartan as the tough-looking Sergeant replied at the same time.

"Thanks."

"Thank you!"

Then, the two gentlemen turned to look at each other. Possibly in confusion, possibly in some manly territorial dispute, as the AI was an attractive-looking creature.

Beneza thought the idea of attraction to an AI rather repugnant. After all, Artificial Lifeforms had caused the Citadel races no end of grief. But they were of vital importance to humanity, so she would keep her judgement to herself.

Lord Hood scraped his throat and the ceremony started in earnest. "Sergeant Major, the Colonial Cross is awarded for acts of singular daring and devotion, for a soldier of the United Earth Space Corps."

Avery stepped forwards and gracefully accepted the medal, which Lord Hood pinned on his chest.

The crowd applauded. Benezia and Victus joined in, but the Dalatrass stopped noticeably earlier than the rest.

Then, it was the Master Chief's turn. "Master Chief Petty Officer One-One-Seven, it is only because of your daring and selfless actions on Halo that any of us can live to celebrate this day. I speak for all of humanity when I say, thank you."

It was curious how the humans kept referring to themselves as "humanity" when they also referred the Liminal species. To them, the different species truly belonged to mankind. Such a magnificent union…to believe that there were those among the Asari Republics who deemed mankind a dangerous, warlike race. If only those poor fools could witness this moment.

"Commander Jacob Keyes. Your actions were in keeping with the highest traditions of military service. Your bravery in the face of impossible odds reflects great credit, upon yourself, and the UNSC. We thank you."

He too received the Colonial Cross. Benezia could see his pride swell, even though the man did not allow any emotions to seep through his stern expression.

One young woman amidst the crowd applauded louder than the rest, beaming with pride as Jacob received the honoured medal.

Benezia smiled. So Jacob was a father, as well as a teacher? The UNSC represented itself well!

The rest of the crew followed suit. However, when it was Carol Rawley's turn, everything went completely wrong. Klaxons began blaring and the AI addressed Lord Hood directly. "Slipspace ruptures, directly off our battle cluster!"

Lord Hood responded with decades of military experience. "Show me."

The display flickered, showing several approach vectors for a group of distinctively-shaped warships.

The Covenant was upon them.

"Fifteen Covenant capital ships, holding position just outside the killzone."

" _This is Fleet Admiral Harper. We are engaging the enemy!"_

Lord Hood's response was immediate. "Negative, Admiral. Form a defensive perimeter around the cluster. He then addressed Jacob personally. "Captain, get to your ship. Commander! You too. Link up with the fleet!"

The daughter stood and saluted. "Yes sir!"

"You have the MAC gun, Cortana. As soon as they come in range, open up."

The AI responded with an oddly emotional sentiment. "Gladly."

General Victus looked he was about to personally take the fight to the Covenant fleet. Stern, yet calm. Benezia did not doubt for a moment that her Turian comrade was devising stratagems even as the humans were taking action themselves. "This cannot be right. The fleet that burned Reach was enormous!" He declared.

The answer to that puzzle resolved itself rather quickly, in the form of one of the sensor operators. "Sir, additional contacts! Boarding craft, and lots of 'em!"

Lord Hood instantly knew what was going on. "They're going to try to take our MAC guns offline, give their capital ships a straight shot at Earth. Master Chief, defend this station."

"Yes sir," spoke the Spartan. His voice was hard, like it hadn't been used in a very long time. Gravelly, but not like a Krogan. Definitely not unpleasant. "Johnson, I need a weapon."

The Sergeant Major smirked, flashing a set of perfectly-white teeth. "Right this way."

Linron scowled. "Covenant! We need to evacuate this station at once! Guards!"

Benezia understood that she was in mortal danger. Very few faced the Covenant and escaped with their lives, after all. But right now, she felt strangely calm. She was in the presence of one of humanity's most powerful weapons and guarded by their most skilled soldier. She did not feel afraid.

In fact, she felt intrigued. She wondered what the Master Chief was like, when he entered combat. She had heard the stories of the Spartans, just like all the Matriarchs had, yet she had never personally witnessed them. Some had. They claimed that the Spartans were like a raging storm. Like fire and ice, magnificent and terrifying all at the same time.

But she knew better. "Dalatrass, General, we should evacuate. We would only stand in the UNSC's way."

Linron grumbled a response, but Victus remained silent.

"Victus?"

The General was gone.

"What-?"

Benezia looked down and saw a suspiciously-Turian shape marching after the soldiers and the Master Chief, carrying a suspiciously-human rifle. "General Victus!"

Victus flinched like a child caught stealing candy.

"You are wearing ceremonial clothes without barriers, without protection, you fool!"

"But-"

"No "but"! You will evacuate with us, General!"

Grumbling, General Victus fell back in line.

~0~

* * *

 **Covenant Holy City** _ **High Charity**_

 **High Council**

Supreme Commander Thela 'Vadamee solemnly watched the trial reveal the scale of her brother's failure. The enormity of his incompetence was only matched by the unruliness of the Council; even the filthy Jiralhanae were allowed entrance.

The Sacred Ring, Halo, the artefact that would finally allow the Covenant to embark on the Great Journey, had finally been discovered. An entire armada had been present, so soon after their grand victory on the human fortress world.

And Thel had failed to protect it.

The loss of the holy Forerunner relic was an unforgivable failure in the eyes of the High Prophets and Sangheili Councillors. They declared that it was heresy and demanded Thel's blood.

Thela felt torn between despising her younger brother for bringing shame and dishonour of such proportions to the House of 'Vadamee and suspicion at the nature of this meeting. Their close friend, Rtas 'Vadumee, had revealed to her what had truly transpired on the Sacred Ring.

The Parasite had been released. The _Fleet of Particular Justice's_ Prophet began subverting Thel, misappropriating military forces to secure facilities on the ring. With the revelation of the Parasite's activities on the ring, how could Thel not have ordered his ships to evacuate the Ring? How could he have known the Demon's intentions?

Thel tried to make the Holy Ones see reason, following the same line of logic she had. "Noble Hierarchs...surely you understand that once the parasite attacked..."

At that, the members of the Council began to shout. Thela crossed her arms, not amused with the way this was going. Her brother had shown incompetence, yes, but that was no reason to execute him. Stripping him of his rank and his honor was enough, so that he might redeem himself in combat, or die trying.

"There will be order in this Council!" Shouted the Prophet of Mercy and by his command, the cavernous room became quiet once more.

The Prophet of Truth continued. "You were right to focus your attention on the Flood, but this Demon, this 'Master Chief'..."

Thela growled at the mention of the Abomination's name. The Demon was an "it", not worthy of being called by its "rank".

"By the time I learned the Demon's intent, there was nothing I could do."

Thela refused to believe that. There were always methods to deny your enemy their price. He should have taken the risk, bombarded the Demon from orbit.

Although, the Council would have seen him hung if he did that and damaged the Holy Ring as well.

The gathered members of the Councl weren't content with his answer, either. They started shouting and jeering again, yelling profanities and curses to Thel's name.

And when Thela saw the Chieftain of the Jiralhanae chuckle to himself, she felt that same urge to vent her frustrations, only not directed at her brother.

After a few moments of whispering among themselves, the Prophet of Truth spoke the verdict. "You are one of our most cherished instruments. Long have you led your fleet with honor and distinction, but your inability to safeguard Halo...was a colossal failure."

That, it was.

"Nay!" Shouted one of the Councillors. "It was heresy!"

That, it was not.

Thel, being the proud warrior he was, ignored the outrage and accusations with dignity. As the room filled with angry shouts, he rose his head like the Kaidon he was. "I will continue my campaign against the human and their war-animals."

"No!" Said the Prophet. With sudden clarity, this time. "You will not."

Then, the disgusting Jiralhanae moved to take up his arms. Thel stood up straighter and snarled at one of them, who wisely backed off.

"Soon, the Great Journey shall begin." And as the Jiralhanae escorted Thela's little brother out of the room, likely to take him to his execution, the Hierarch ended the session by declaring, "But when it does, the weight of your heresy will stay your feet, and you shall be left behind."

~0~

* * *

 _The UNSC home-fleet, working together with the Turian, Asari and Salarian fleets, utterly demolish the invading Covenant ships. One Assault Carrier holds position to engage the Orbital Defence Platforms, but it is quickly destroyed when John-117 politely returns the Covenant's antimatter charge with an EVA manoeuvre._

 _John-117 instantly wins the hearts of all present Turian Captain and many of their soldiers. General Victus becomes too enthusiastic and has a little accident. New Turian-pants are commissioned._

…

 _The second Assault Carrier, carrying the High Prophet of Regret, much to the surprise of the defending forces, sacrifices all the other ships to break through to New Mombasa._

 _Despite the legions of Covenant troops deployed by the Assault Carrier, the Liminal population stands ready to defend their homeworld._

…

 _The Battle for Old Mombasa is won within the hour, as Liminal civilians link up with soldiers and slaughter the invaders._

 _Surviving Covenant forces are abandoned when the Assault Carrier prepares for an immediate Slipspace jump. Only the UNSC Frigate_ In Amber Clad _and the refitted UNSC Destroyer_ Iroquois _manage to follow the Carrier's Slipspace wake._

 _Moments later, the Prophet of Truth's fleet arrives in earnest. The fiercest space battle in civilized history begins._

…

 _Thel 'Vadamee is made the Arbiter by the Prophets of Mercy and Truth._

~0~

* * *

 **November 3th**

 **Aboard** _ **CAS-Class**_ **Assault Carrier** _ **Seeker of Truth, Fleet of Particular Justice**_

Something was wrong. Thela 'Vadamee felt it in her gut. The Councillors should have responded by now.

The Supreme Commander turned to face the Mgalekgolo pair responsible for security on the _Seeker of Truth_. "Find the Councillors. I need to know that they are safe."

The colonies within the Lekgolo pair pulsed in harmonic union to produce a subsonic rumble. Words, which were more felt than heard. Together they acknowledged her order and departed to start their patrol.

With that, Thela turned her attention back to her views-screens. The past few days had been…hectic. Between dealing with assassins sent after her to eliminate her for her brother's failure and the sudden withdrawal of the _Fleet of Particular Justice_ from the Citadel Collective space, she had not been able to completely follow the events since Thel had been sentenced to death.

And now, there were reports that a Hierarch had died! That the Prophet on Regret, down on the surface of the silver arc of the Forerunner Halo construct—ominous, breath-taking, and the source of this trouble.

One of her teams down in the second hangar bay suddenly sent her a transmission on the emergency channel.

" _Supreme Commander, the Jiralhanae, they have betrayed us! They are coming for you!"_

"Blood!" Spat Thela. She felt the urge to smash her first into something, but relented. "Stand fast. I shall deal with them."

" _Exalted One, we can hold. The wretched mongrels are coming for you! They can arrive any moment!"_

The Supreme Commander narrowed her eyes. Silence reigned in the bridge.

Thela 'Vadamee felt a measure of frustration she had not felt since the heard of her brother's fate. If she had to tame these beasts as well as cement her reputation, she would.

"Keep the _Seeker_ safe from other vessels," she growled at her officers. She had gained their loyalty and trust through years of bloodshed and violence; they better than to incur her wrath. "Do not let _anything_ board us."

Her officers obeyed her without question.

Thela's long cloak whirled behind her as she rushed towards one of the sealed doors. Her ancestors had worn thick, doarmir-fur cloaks like this at sea to stay warm and dry on long voyages. She had made hers by hand, on the grim-cast day Thel had wounded himself in training, and required a _doctor_.

Such a dishonor. A blight on his past.

She reached for her energy sword, but did not yet activate it. A drawn weapon demanded blood and she would not coat the floor of her bridge with the gore of unworthy foes.

The door opened and she found herself face-to-face with a Jiralhanae. It was clearly surprised by her appearance, as it flinched for a second.

She did not need more. She lashed out with her left hand and dug her fingers deep into the creature's eye-sockets, blinding and enraging it.

It mattered little. With one fell gesture, the Supreme Commander activated her blade and drove it straight through her foe's chest, instantly killing it.

She discarded its stinking carcass and beheld the rest of its pack. All of them Jiralhanae, all of them armed.

All of them dead.

The fight took mere seconds, after which Thela 'Vadamee sheathed her energy sword again, crushed the decapitated head of the last Jiralhanae beneath her boot and took her place at the bridge again. There, she activated the ship's broadcast signal. "Sangheili of the _Seeker of Truth_. The Jiralhanae have risen against us! We shall give them no mercy, Slay them on sight."

"Supreme Commander!" Growled one of her officers. "The Second Fleet of _Homogeneous Clarit_ y is falling into chaos!"

'Vadamee could see that. On-screen, a hundred vessels were idly drifting through space, without purpose and without guidance.

At least, not completely without guidance. An incoming transmission from High Charity was picked up by the _Seeker's_ sensors. Finally, this madness would end and they would receive clear orders!

" _The Sangheili have failed to protect the Prophets, and in doing so, have put all our lives at risk. Let no warrior forget his oath, 'Thou, in faith, shall keep us safe, whilst we find the Path." With my blessing, the Jiralhanae now lead our fleets! They ask for your allegiance, and you shall give it."_

That was the Prophet of Truth…the Hierarch himself.

What nonsense was this? Give command of the fleet to the Jiralhanae? _Her_ fleet? This was unacceptable!

"Are we to blame?" Her younger officer muttered. "Is this punishment, for our failures?"

Thela snarled grabbed the officer by his neck. "When the Demon laid waste to Halo, Thel 'Vadamee was given the blame. Now the Demon kills the Hierarch, and our entire species is to blame? I will not accept this. Stay true to your blood. We must stay vigilant!"

The Lekgolo pair reported in. There was heavy fighting among the Jiralhanae-controlled sections of the _Seeker of Truth_. This treachery was no longer limited to a band of dissidents; the ancient feud between their races was about to escalate.

Then, the _Seeker_ rumbled.

"Plasma strike on the aft shield! Successfully deflected."

"Trace that firing solution and give me a target," said Thela.

"Calculating, Exalted One. Solution obtained. One target."

A holographic Cruiser appeared on the deck and sped towards them. It identified as the _Bringer of Darkness_ , a Jiralhanae-controlled vessel.

"Maneuver one three one by four seven two. Target the _Bringer_ with the two fore Energy Projectors. Deliver them to the void."

The cleansing illumination tore through the Cruiser's shields, then its hull. It blasted through the entire ship in a heartbeat and detonated the aft plasma coils, shattering the ship into a haze of glowing particles.

If the savage beasts thought they could take an Assault Carrier with but a single Cruiser, they were even more foolish than she thought.

But the attack served its purpose. With the destruction of the _Bringer of Darkness_ , more vessels opened fire on each other. And with that first engagement, the entire fleet descended into madness.

~0~

* * *

 **Installation 05**

 **Bastion of the Brutes**

Sergeant Major Avery Junior "Blow-the-hell-out-of-alien-ass" Johnson was reporting to duty. With a big, smoking plasma rifle in one hand and a big, smoking cigar in the other.

A big, ugly Brute screamed at his face, infuriated that his pathetic little energy cuffs had failed to hold his manliness in one place.

So he spread the dumb ape's manliness all over the place in turn. "Come on men!" He yelled at Stacker and Banks. "We've got Armageddon to raise and Armageddon to stop!"

A Brute slashed at him with his big grenade launcher machete hybrid, which Johnson effortlessly deflected with his cigar. The alien grunted and fell to his knees, allowing Johnson to slap him across his bitch-face.

"That's for manhandling the lady!" He snapped.

Another Brute tried to ambush him, but his new rank came with privileges. He sensed the attack before it ever came and opened fire with the plasma rifle, blasting the alien with white-hot fiery death.

"That's for manhandling me!"

But for all his might, Johnson could not predict the appearance of a badass that wasn't him. The doors on the opposite end of the strange platform opened and an energy sword erupted from the chest of the last Brute, who uttered a gurgling scream and then died.

Johnson beheld the visage of the Elite who had attempted to knock him out in the Library. The two of them had done battle, until half the room had been destroyed and all Flood forms in the vicinity were dead.

The split-faced bastard-badass had only won because that mohawk had dropped by and taken advantage of Avery's allergy to altered gravity fields. That was bullshit.

But this time, the Sergeant Major had a way of levelling the playing field. He ordered Stacker and Banks aboard the big-ass Scarab that was docked to the room and then stared down the Elites that came barging inside.

He raised his fist and by the power of his Sergeant Major rank, his boys now knew how to pilot the Scarab with just the two of them.

"Listen," said Johnson. "You don't like me and I sure as hell don't like you. But if we don't do something, Mr. Mohawk's gonna activate this ring... and we're all gonna die."

The Elite raised his hand and prevented the gathered other Elites and Hunters from making a big mistake. "Tartarus has locked himself inside the Control Room."

Johnson nodded. "Well, I just happen to have a key." As on cue, the cannon on the Scarab opened. "Come on. Grab a Banshee and give me some cover. He's gonna know we're comin'."

The Sergeant then proceeded to enter the Scarab, take control and steer it straight towards that Tartarsauce's base.

~0~

* * *

 _Sergeant Major Johnson and Arbiter Thel 'Vadamee get to know each other better over the smell of burning Jiralhanae and the performance of badass boasts._

 _After a long, drawn-out fight, the Arbiter and the Sergeant Major slay the Chieftain of the Jiralhanae, Tartarus, and assist Miranda Keyes in stopping Halo from firing._

…

 _High Charity falls to the Flood._

…

 _The Covenant falls apart._

…

 _John-117 vows to finish the fight._

 _~0~_

* * *

 _ **Citadel News Cast**_

" _This is Emily Wong, broadcasting live from Earth's Resistance Channel. With the loss of costless equipment in the Sol system, the "live" part of this broadcast might already be weeks old. Who knows? After the deceptively-small fleet of the Covenant leader knowns as the "Prophet of Regret" was destroyed by Earth's formidable defences, the true bulk of the Covenant fleet arrived. And when I say the bulk, I really mean it. We've got hundreds of ships defending Earth, including several Turian and Asari Dreadnaughts and the much-esteemed UNSC Cruisers. The Covenant just blew past them and made a beeline straight for Africa. It's like they're not even concerned with casualties…"_

Councillor Sparatus knew that, despite the reporter's doubts, the Office of Naval Intelligence on Earth had taken extreme measures to make sure their superluminal communication installations remained active and in contact with Salarian communication vessels, if only to arm the Citadel Council with the knowledge to defeat the Covenant.

They were literally tying to fling a light into the future.

It pained him to realize, but the Hierarchy's reinforcements were outclassed in every possible way. His fleet might as well have been a group of flies, buzzing around the Covenant's warships for all the good they did. Even on the ground, where his armies had vowed to hold the line, the Hierarchy's unbreakable units were getting torn apart by Covenant forces. It was only because of the native population of Earth that the men had any chance of holding their ground. Humanity's sheer diversity in species was their greatest asset.

But how long would it last, truly? Cutting-edge Salarian communication technology allowed for ludicrously-fast lines of communication, but due to a lack of Mass Relays in UNSC-controlled space, all viable military intelligence arrived at least twelve hours later.

Every hour that passed could mark the total defeat of mankind.

Tevos entered his office, bringing him some refreshments. She cast one look at the screen, sighed and then waved with her omni-tool, shutting it off again. "Oh, Sparatus, why must you torment yourself like this? You have done all you can. You do not owe humanity anything. Not after everything you have already done for them."

"How long have we held this station?" He asked.

"Do you mean the Council?"

"No. Our species. Turians, Asari, Salarians. How long ago were the Rachni Wars? The Krogan Rebellions? How many centuries has this system worked?"

"I…I do not follow you."

"We've been keeping Council space safe for two millennia. The Covenant is fighting _us_ and _them_ at the same time. Even as we speak, their fleets are consuming our worlds. How is it that we cannot best them too?"

Tevos sat down next to him. "Well, perhaps we can. We need time. It took the Turian fleets centuries to beat back the Krogan during the Rebellions."

"And yet the casualties taken during those centuries roughly add up to the casualties during the three years of the Human-Covenant War. Look at the humans. In the span of a year, they won a major victory, lost their greatest world and found an artefact so horrible they are still unwilling to share all the details. And now they are fighting for their very existence, while we sit back in our own sector of space, safe and snug."

"What would you have us do?"

Sparatus clicked his mandibles, annoyed. "Anything! We have thousands of ships scattered across our regions. Will we wait until the Covenant brings their own fleets to bear against us?"

"There are no Mass Relays in UNSC-controlled space, Sparatus. If it wasn't for the refuelling stations built in-between, there wouldn't be _any_ of our ships with them!"

Sparatus was about to give a retort when Valern sent him the latest report from the STG teams on Earth. "Excuse me…"

Sector Six…Afghanistan? Forerunner vessel? What was…

Wait.

Hold on.

"Spirits…" gasped Sparatus.

"What?" Demanded Tevos. "What did they learn?"

The Turian Councillor turned to face his colleague and promptly hugged her. "They found him!" He then exclaimed. "They found Spartan One-One-Seven!"

" _What?"_ Tevos appeared flustered from the impromptu show of affection, but she didn't seem to care "But he was lost after the assassination of Regret!"

"I know!" Sparatus was basically jumping with delight. "He jumped from orbit!"

"From _orbit?!"_

"They tracked his descend -Spirits, now they have a fighting chance!"

 _~0~_

* * *

' _The Prophet of Truth's fleet hits Earth hard._

 _Earth hits back harder. The majority of the population rises up against the invaders, striking in every way possible. Nature Spirits as well as Dryad's create safe havens for civilians, while inflecting massive losses on the Covenant forces._

 _Unwilling to fight opponents they cannot harm with projectile technology, the Jiralhanae resort to bombing areas of resistance from orbit._

 _The irony that Elites with plasma weaponry could have hurt the more intangible, supernatural species is lost on the Brutes._

 _~0~_

* * *

 _._ **November 17th.**

 **Earth**

 **Military base Crow's Nest**

"Smile for the camera," called a Marine. The young man was filming the gathered soldiers with an omni-tool app, likely gathering footage for the various live broadcasts that the UNSC was sending to Council space.

The boy was limping. He had caught a plasma bolt to his left leg, which had nearly taken the limb off. Only the timely intervention of a Slime Girl had saved him from an untimely amputation.

Still, Second Lieutenant Miia Lucifinae felt he was being much too enthusiastic about this whole thing. Yes, Earth wasn't glassed yet and yes, due to the Citadel's reinforcements, the fleet was holding.

But that didn't mean a thing when the Covenant had literally millions of soldiers crawling around the place!

The young Lamia sighed and buried her head in her arms. She watched a pair of Salarians gather around a holographic display, chattering away over the strange artefact that the Covenant was trying to uncover in Voi. Several Turians were hauling a crate of arms around and Qurian engineers were trying to get some sort of machine in working order again.

The UNSC was pulling _all_ ships back to Sol, gathering them near the moon called Io. It left their remaining colonies defenceless. What was to stop the Batarian Hegemony from invading their worlds now? With the barest minimum of ships in the Attican Traverse…even if they won on Earth, what would they return home to?

Miia didn't know. She didn't _want_ to know.

Some of the soldiers made room for a team of Harpies, who had been sent out to patrol the perimeter.

"It was them!" One of the girls squealed. "It was Echo-419, we need to prepare for their landing!"

Miia's ears perched at that. Echo-419? She knew that call-sign. Who didn't? Foehammer's motto was legendary; she delivered.

She had returned from that top-secret mission of hers, had she now?

As the highest-ranking officer in the area, the duty to report Foehammer's return was hers. So she immediately returned to the command centre of the Crow's Nest, making use of the specialized passages that had been built into the base to make it easier for certain Liminals to get around.

The Nest was a hive of activity. Liminals of all species were running around, performing tasks that ranged from simple logistics to downright keeping wounded soldiers from slipping away.

Miia saw a Dullahan tending to a pair of unconscious soldiers, together with a Hel. Supposedly, they could stave off death long enough for life-saving surgeries or medication to do their work, saving people who were literally about to die.

In some extreme cases, they literally pulled people back from the dead, but only if they could get to them in time.

Miia didn't know what to think about that. She could buy a lot of things, but Extraspecies persons who commanded the afterlife? Which afterlife, what souls?

There were just too many problems with an idea like that. She couldn't accept it.

That being said, she _had_ seen some pretty crazy things happen around those sorts of Liminals, which was why she normally kept her distance from her.

But desperate times called for desperate measures. Humans weren't as tough as Liminals were; they just weren't built to take the sheer punishment that they could. Now, the last line of defence was their responsibility.

And they would gladly take that responsibility, as well as the burden.

Miia made her way to the command centre and saluted Captain Keyes, who was directing his men from the ground. "Sir! Pelican dropship Echo-419 has returned from her clandestine operation!"

The Captain looked up, his eyes gleaming with emotion. "Excellent Lieutenant. Why don't you take a break? Go and meet him."

"Him, sir?" Miia replied, puzzled at that strange remark.

"At Echo-419, Lieutenant. Escort our guests to the command centre."

The Lamia still had no idea what the officer was talking about, but she wasn't going to question him. "Eh, yes sir!"

So with that, she made her way to the landing pad, where the boys were just waving Foehammer in. The Pelican looked scorched and battered, but she was still intact, for which Miia was very grateful. They were already running low on equipment as it was.

She watched the dropship touch down, startling some wounded humans nearby.

The tray of the ship opened and something inhuman stepped out. It stood seven feet tall, easily, and was clad in a set of green armor that looked bulky, yet elegant and slim at the same time. Blotches of purple and blue still caked its thoracic plates.

Miia gasped. She knew that man. Everybody did. He was the legendary Master Chief, Spartan One-One-Seven. Some said he was the last of the Spartans, the last of an unit so elite, so legendary, that Covenant soldiers trembled in their wake.

This was the first time she had ever seen him in person. She felt her heart race, her cheeks burning with heat.

Few humans had ever earned her admiration. Old man Keyes was one. His fearless daughter was another. But this man, this…Spartan…simply being near him made her feel like she was going to be alright. Now, Commander Keyes' planned assault might actually work!

"M-Master Chief!" She stammered and hurried to salute.

The mirrored visor made him look all the more intimidating. There was no saying what sort of eyes were looking at her from behind that golden visor.

She immediately imagined that they were very pretty to look at.

Moments later she regretted. _You're a Lieutenant for crying out loud_! She scolded herself. _Act like it!_

The Arbiter and the Sergeant Major exited the Pelican dropship as well. Miia, desperate to shake off those immature thoughts, addressed Johnson. "Where did you find him?"

"Napping, Out back."

That the Sergeant Major could talk so…so brazenly about this man. So open, like standing next to him was _nothing_! She knew that Johnson was a legendary soldier as well, but to think that he and the Master Chief were so close…unimaginable.

"I-it's good to see you here, Master Chief!" Miia then said, quite a bit louder than she had planned. "You should c-come with me. I mean, to the command centre! The Captain is waiting for you!"

As the Master Chief and the Sergeant Major headed down the base, Miia spotted the Arbiter giving her a very odd look.

"What are you staring at!" She snapped at him.

He merely shook his head, as if amused by some inside joke.

~0~

* * *

 _Invading Drone forces are slaughtered by a flock of Harpies who discovered their infiltration point._

 _The allegedly-fearless Drones were taught how to experience said emotion when they discovered the Killer Hornet subspecies on Earth. The Killer Hornets, in turn, discover a new favorite food source._

…

 _Brute forces invading the Crow's Nest are ambushed and swiftly killed by squads of Lamias, Centaurs and Dragons._

 _The Brute Chieftain gets eaten by a Mimic._

 _~0~_

* * *

 **One hour later**

 **Voi**

The last of the invaders stood tall and held its ground, bellowing a challenge to all who would dare confront it. In turn, it was ran down by at least eight different Centaurs. It was dead in seconds, trampled beneath the feet of thousands of kilos of horse-legged soldiers.

"Did we get it? Did we get it?" Yelled one of the Centaurs.

"Aww...gross, I've got Brute on my feet!" Said another.

Dracos watched the mangled corpse and chuckled. There was nothing quite was fun as watching the eyes of a Brute as it realized it was being outmatched. That dawning moment of comprehension, that understanding that they weren't going to win through sheer force alone…it was glorious.

The death of that last Brute marked the defeat of the alien forces in the area. Draco proudly surveyed her handiwork; a dozen dead Grunts, seven badly-mangled Jackal corpses and the collective limbs and viscera of four Brutes. She had memorized their races, as each one demanded a different approach. The average Brute was roughly as strong as she was when it came to blunt force, but lacked the natural weapons to make proper use of that strength.

As formidable as they were, blood-loss greatly weakened them.

Although decapitation was always the best solution.

"That's the last of them!" Yelled the Sergeant. "Make room for the Chief!"

Draco paused, somewhat confused. The Chief? Which Chief?

She heard the sound of approaching vehicles and glanced over her shoulder, folding her wings back against her body as she did. A column of four jeeps emerged from the tunnel to Tsavo Highway, carrying even more soldiers.

But one in particular caught the Dragon's attention. He was encased in pearlescent green battle armor, like a mighty warrior from ancient stories her mother used to read to her. He was taller than any human, yet didn't look like he was an Extraspecies person.

He reeked of death and fire and his armor was battered and singed.

Dracosa took an instant liking to him.

Several of the soldiers who had worked with her in this engagement glanced at her, likely catching her staring at the green-clad warrior.

They were whispering to each other.

She didn't care. For the first time in a _very_ long time, she looked forward to fighting alongside someone else.

~0~

* * *

 _During the Battle of Voi, Liminal forces make perfect use of their environment to clear the way for the more vulnerable human forces. Sirens lure large amounts of susceptible Covenant soldiers to the nearby lake, where the aliens are drowned en-masse by Undines, Scyllas and mermaids._

 _A general order to stay away from all bodies of water is sent too late to help the forces in Voi._

~0~

* * *

 **0103 Hours, December 11, 2548 (Military Calendar) / Aboard Covenant-Separatist Assault Carrier** _ **Seeker of Truth**_

 **Installation 00: The Ark**

Sangheili warriors were not known for their patience. The rare female warriors even less so. And right now, Supreme Commander Thela 'Vadam's patience was being tested to its absolute _limits._

There were humans running around her ship. Humans and their fierce, scarcely-clothed subspecies. And much disgracefully, she could not even hunt them down, for they were of "vital importance" to their current survival.

Why they would ever need those thin-skinned worms was beyond her. Even with Shipmaster Vadum's insistence that they needed allies now that the Prophets had betrayed them so thoroughly, Thela could hardly believe why they would choose the _humans_ of all creatures.

The Great Schism was upon them now, and the Sangheili would forge their own path, with their own blood. Blood that the filthy Jiralhanae had spilled in great quantities. Blood that the Prophets had _wasted_ for countless years on a false conviction.

Blood that she wished to spill right now. For even now, as they emerged above what amounted to the greatest of the Forerunner's creations, she knew that the humans' Demon was getting ready for war.

Thela longed to mount the Demon's head on the wall in 'Vadam's Keep. But no such opportunity was possible. Instead of slaying it on side, both Shipmaster Vadum as the Arbiter had insisted on keeping the Demon as an ally. A comrade in arms, even.

The Supreme Commander snorted at the very thought of that. An Arbiter, seeking to fight alongside a human.

It was dishonorable. She would not stand for it.

She had requested an audience with this Arbiter, this "Hand of the Prophets" who had supposedly enlightened the Sangheili on the Second Halo. He had prevented the _Fleet of Retribution_ from glassing the Flood-infested home world. He had fought alongside humans in the Halo. He had worked with the Demon, multiple times.

He had much to answer for.

Her bridge crew was on edge. They were all comrades in arms, but they had learnt to respect her through physical violence. They knew her better than most. Sometimes, better than she knew herself.

Fearing she would clash with the Arbiter, did they?

The doors behind her opened. The Lekgolo pair did not react.

Ever since the infiltration of Jiralhanae forces seeking to capture her ship, the crew had been on full alert for any signs of treachery. These were dangerous times, after all. Assassinations were still common

As soon as her visitor entered the bridge, her officers stood.

Thela scowled. She hadn't expected the Arbiter's presence to be so imposing that her own warriors would do him that honor.

"I see the Jiralhanae were fools, attempting to overpower you," spoke the Arbiter.

Thela stiffened. She knew that voice.

The uncanny resemblance to her deceased younger brother did not help the Arbiter's case.

"The Arbiter himself. Your timing is commendable, yet your actions worry me," Thela told him without facing him. She would do him that honor if his explanation showed wisdom. "Your apparent comradeship with the Demon is unsettling."

"Our war with the humans was based on lies and deception. Of course, negotiations and alliances never suited you," the Arbiter then replied, most insultingly.

Thela whirled on him, bristling at his choice of words.

She stopped short of lashing out at him when she caught a whiff of a familiar scent. She locked eyes with him and realized that she knew his visage.

So _that_ was the choice of execution the Prophets had decided on.

Thel stared back at her, with a hint of amusement in his voice. "I believe your crew noticed it before you did, sister."

Thela was silent for several long moments, torn between conflicting emotions.

Then she punched him.

~0~

* * *

 **Operation: BLIND FAITH**

 **Installation 04, 262144 lightyears outside the Milky Way galaxy's core**

 **Nearing the Cartographer**

"The LZ's through this cave, sir. Watch yourself; got Covenant heavy armor!"

There was nothing quite like watching a Spartan pulling off trick-shots with a sniper rifle. It, like any other weapon in his hands, became a true menace to the Covenant forces attempting to protect the designated LZ. Their infantry fell in droves, leaving behind only the large, distinctive shapes of Wraith mortar tanks.

Commander Lilim Shepard briefly watched the Spartan as he sniped the Covenant infantry from afar, counting the steady _crack, crack, crack_ of his rifle going off.

"I assume you have a plan for that heavy armor, Spartan?" She asked.

"Yes," he patiently answered. He reloaded his sniper without taking his eyes off the scope. "I'll draw its fire and wait for it to happen."

The Elder Devil experienced a brief moment of hesitation. "Wait for…it…to happen?"

"The plan."

As they spoke, another plasma mortar impacted on the entrance of the cave. The massive blast sent shockwaves through the air and Lilim was nearly thrown off her feet by the overpressure.

But the cave held and the heat of the blast was easily absorbed by her armor.

In the distance, a Lamia emerged atop the right side of the cliffs. Lilim caught glimpse of a green flash, a discharge of an alien weapon. A glowing sphere of energy arced through the air, impacted and exploded in a green shockwave.

Two more shots followed and the first Wraith was reduced to molten slag and burning metal.

Shepard could only assume that the Hero of Elysium knew how to wield heavy weapons as well.

"Move out," yelled the Master Chief. "Go, go!"

Behind him, a warthog packed with Liminal soldiers shifted its gears. Its engine roared, its wheels kicked up geysers of dirt and the light reconnaissance vehicle shot forwards like a bullet.

The Spartan started moving as well and Shepard, not willing to lose what might well be the last Spartan mankind had left, quickly followed him. The Master Chief was a force of nature, a whirlwind of destruction and fire, but he wasn't invulnerable. He could get hurt, and Lilim wasn't about to let him die without ever having seen a life outside of war.

The second Wraith turned to bombard the owner of the Fuel Rod Gun atop the cliff with plasma mortars, giving the advancing UNSC forces a brief window of opportunity to strike.

A Brute Prowler shot towards them, as if eager to run them over.

Shepard, trusting the Spartan to do his thing in time, leapt out of the way of the alien vehicle right before it could hit her. She grabbed a hold of the arm of the Brute passenger and slung herself atop the vehicle, using her momentum to throw the Brute out.

By the time she had gotten a good grip on the vehicle and readied her rifle, the Master Chief had already dispatched of the other two aliens, leaving the Prowler in UNSC hands.

"Hang on," the Spartan calmly sad.

The Elder Devil glanced around. "For what purpose?"

The Chief leapt into the driver's seat and started racing towards the second Wraith, braving plasma fire and rapidly-descending mortars.

Lilim managed to understand what sort of strategy the Spartan was employing, right before he rammed the Wraith at full speed.

~0~

* * *

 _UNSC Frigate_ Forward Unto Dawn _lands at the LZ. UNSC Destroyer_ Iroquois _continues to support the Sangheili Fleet, surprising many a Shipmaster at the daring and often-suicidal strategies the Keyes family is renowned for._

…

 _Harpies and Wyverns land infantry on Covenant Loyalist Scarabs that attempt to stand in the UNSC's way, allowing the superheavy vehicle to be destroyed without casualties._

…

 _Dracosa Victorias becomes the first known non-Spartan combatant to kill a Brute Chieftain with his own Gravity Hammer._

…

 _The phrase "the pack will feast on you!" becomes ironic when Killer Hornet squads locate and eliminate cloaked Brute infantry spread out across the interior of the Cartographer._

…

 _The universe's record for "ETA damn quick" Pelican arrivals gets shattered._

 _~0~_

* * *

 **Third tower around the Prophet of Truth's citadel**

Sergeant Major Johnson hefted his assault rifle and eyed the Brute reinforcement that were now approaching they were surrounded. Good; now he could attack in all directions.

"Come on now!" He yelled, accentuating his words with rapid bursts of 7.62mm fire. "Come get some!"

The Brutes did not dare advance on him and make use of their immense physical strength in the close quarters battle that the third tower had become.

Perhaps it had something to do with the very hungry very angry Liminal soldiers on his squad. For some reason, these dumb apes thought that human-looking infantry who could take an entire clip of Spiker ammo without flinching was something to be scared of.

Johnson knew better. The undead commandoes in his group could only violently murder the Brutes; there was no saying what _he_ would do to the aliens if he got his Johnson-hands on them.

"Cursed heathens!" Spat the Brute Captain as an explosion tore one of the zombie ODST's in half.

The big monkey's swearing was more painful to the fallen Corporal than the explosion, as he merely groaned loudly upon watching his legs fly off. "Come on! Not again!" The ODST's torso then proceeded to pluck a grenade from his sachet and lob it over the metal balustrade that served as their cover.

Sergeant Major Johnson took a shot at the flying grenade and sent it straight into one of the fusion coil's standing around. The resulting explosion killed a lance of Grunts and blew the Brute Captain's legs off.

"What's the matter, baby kong!" Shouted Johnson. "Put your legs back on and fight like a real man!"

The Brute failed to put his legs back on and lay there screaming until one of the soldiers shot it.

"Hey Pete, gimme my legs would you?"

"I've got some stitching left…this help?"

"Ah, that's the stuff…"

The zombie took a few steps and proceeded to leave half his left leg behind. "Damnit!"

"You two stay there and patch him up," ordered Johnson. "Polt, we clear?"

"Sir! I can hear Drones buzzing around sir!" Cried the over-eager Kobold. "Permission to serve as bait, sir?"

He loved enthusiastic recruits. "Granted! Kira, get the girls. Dinner's served!"

Private Polt dashed towards the elevator, got shot at by a dozen of the buggers and immediately pulled back, closely followed by an entire swarm of the things.

Johnson waved his own swarm forwards. Sergeant Kira, the swarm-leader of the remaining Killer Hornets, sped past him with such a speed that only a Sergeant Major could keep track of her. She was followed by ten other Hornets, who proceeded to close in on the Drones so fast that the alien bugs couldn't even fire off more than a few needles, which harmlessly bounced off of their carapace.

What happened next could only be described as a massacre. The Hornet-girls violently ripped the Drones to pieces, going straight for death by decapitation as they dispatched of the swarm. Soon, the elevator was littered with scattered body parts, damaged pieces of green carapace and loose heads. And, of course, white patches of blood and entrails.

It was a beautiful sight to behold.

"Charge!" Cried the Sergeant Major and by his command, the elevator sped up a tenfold. It delivered him and his forces straight into the waiting arms of the last Brute Chieftain and his pack.

Said arms were swiftly ripped off as the two Wyverns in his squad went straight for the kill. Wyverns were like Dragon-girls, lacking their natural weapons and making up for that lack of weapons by being about twice as aggressive. No sooner had they latched on to the Chieftain or they were ripping out his guts.

Johnson and the rest of his squad caught the remaining Brutes in a blistering crossfire so powerful, so accurate, that the Forerunner sheaths of glass all shattered under the thundering roar of gunfire. Their charge on the tower culminated in his Ogre heavy weapons specialist beating one of the Brutes to death with its own skull, something which was only physically possible because Johnson permitted it.

Thus it was that the three towers fell.

 _~0~_

* * *

 _The separatist-UNSC alliance launches an assault on the Ark's Citadel where Truth intends to activate the Halo Array. At the same time the former Covenant city High Charity arrives from slipspace and crashes on the Ark. Debris spread from the city-ship helps spread a new Flood infestation on the Ark._

 _Lacking Will-O-Wisps like those present in Voi, the UNSC has no choice but to fight off the parasite as well._

…

 _A joint Centraur-Orc charge brings an end to the Covenant light armor, while a joint Scorpion MBT-Spartan-Arbiter assault brings an end to the Covenant heavy armor._

…

 _Thel 'Vadam executes Truth while John deactivates the Installations. Shortly after that, one villain is traded for another._

…

 _The Master Chief personally heads to the Flood-infected High Charity, inflecting hundreds of casualties to the Flood as he retrieves Cortana. Thel 'Vadam heads in straight after the Spartan and provides covering fire, allowing the three of them to escape._

…

 _Installation 04B, the replacement Halo, is fired. Monitor 343 Guilty Spark is unable to kill Sergeant Major Johnson, falsely attributed to the latter's laser eyes._

…

 _All survivors retreat to the UNSC_ Forward Unto Dawn _and the UNSC_ Iroquois

…

 _The UNSC-Separatist alliance returns to Earth._

 _ **The Human-Covenant War is over.**_

…

 _Black Fang terrorists smuggle several members aboard the Citadel._

 _~0~_

* * *

 **Terminus Systems**

 **Aboard unidentified capital ship**

General Arterius glared at the holographic display with nothing but plain hatred in his eyes. He watched the UNSC representatives stand the media to word, explaining all about how they had won the devastating war against the Covenant. The "biggest threat in the galaxy" had been dissolved. And even though there were still portions of the old Covenant left, both Sangheili as Jiralhanae, who wanted to see an end to both humanity as the Citadel Council, the crisis was over.

Fools! Humans, so arrogant, so conceited! Did they not realize that the time of organic civilizations was over? Did they not understand that a far greater threat than the pathetic _Covenant_ waited in dark space?

Of course they didn't. They were beasts, only understanding how to wage war. But their primitive horde of beasts wouldn't help them when the Conduit was found, marking the return of the Reapers.

These organics had no idea of the forces they were about to content with, but it was all the more befitting of their arrogance; that they would be slaughtered by a threat they did not even understand was almost poetic.

General Desolas Arterius was content to watch his army of Geth as The Sovereign set a direct course to their colony, Eden Prime.

~0~

* * *

 **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: SPECIES: NATURE SPIRITS**

 _Some Liminal Species are more mythical than others. Corporeal Monster Species are accepted by almost every organization in the galaxy, safe for a peculiar Turian extremist organization, which to this day is still attempting to dismiss the existence of all Liminal species._

 _However, the non-corporeal are less known to the galactic community. These "supernatural" or "magical" species can be divided into various categorizations, one of which proved vital to the defense of Earth against the Covenant invaders._

 _Nature Spirits are noncorporeal Liminal species who are nonetheless capable of physically interfering with their environment. They consider themselves the guardians of nature and all forms of life. These Spirits are sometimes divided into several clades, mistakenly simplified as four "elements"._

 _The Will-O-Wisps and Undines are elemental Spirits with limited control over fire and water , respectively. They are incapable of being hurt by mundane means, though it is observed that an extreme alteration of their environment such as temperature, pH-grade or oxygen can still harm them. Individuals of these Liminal species are generally ill-fitted as soldiers, but are known to be extremely dangerous when provoked. During the Battle of Earth, entire swaths of ground were consumed by controlled forest fires or directed floods, consuming entire divisions of enemy infantry._

 _~0~_

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _as I've stated at the end of my other Halo/Mass Effect crossover, I've recently gotten some bad news, which can negatively impact my update schedules. Nobody died, nobody got hurt, but it shook me up a lot._

 _Anyway, we'll finally be getting to our Harem-theme next chapter, where the actual story starts._ _Ha_


	11. Act 2: A new daily life

~0~

* * *

 **0940 Hours, January 20th, 2549 (Military Calendar) / UNSC Marathon-Class Cruiser** _ **Hollander**_

 **Approaching UEG colony Elysium**

The Master Chief stood on the bridge of the _Hollander,_ his wrists clasped behind his back. Aboard the cavernous bridge of the massive Cruiser, two dozen crewmembers were working around the clock to get the warship at the rendezvous point in time. Admiral Hackett, peacekeeper of the UNSC's colonies in the Attican Traverse, looked exhausted.

The Spartan shared that particular feeling, albeit for vastly different reasons. For him, the fighting was over. Truth, the Covenant, the Flood, it was finished. Billions upon billions of people had died during the course of the war. Many of his brothers and sisters were gone now. He hadn't been given the chance to meet up with the survivors. Almost immediately after their return to Earth, he had been forced to undergo a series of medical tests, psychological screenings and multiple interviews with profilers from the Office of Naval Intelligence.

The Battle for the Ark had left him in a bad way, but not just physically.

For him, the war was over. Humanity was tightening their diplomatic bonds with the Citadel Council, the remnants of the Sangheili who had aided them throughout the war were now allies. It was a time of peace. The time for Spartans had passed by.

They had taken Cortana from him. She was needed, more urgently than he was. They had promised him that the two of them would reunite after some time, but John was sceptical.

Yet, even in the face of all of that, he hadn't been abandoned. His allies, Commander Miranda and Captain Keyes, had apparently stepped up to Fleet Admiral Hood himself, requesting a reassignment for the Spartan.

It had brought him here, aboard the flagship of the UNSC's fleet in the Attican Traverse, en-route to their first fortress world in Council Space.

As of now, their sole remaining fortress world.

For him, there was literally nothing to do but wait.

After a while, Admiral Hackett addressed him. "There she is. Elysium. The place got a hell of a history. What do you know about it?"

"Sir. The Batarian Hegemony staged a massive assault on the colony, shortly after their declaration of war. They enlisted mercenaries and pirates to serve as the bulk of their forces. The assault was fought off."

"Hmm…you do know your history. The Hegemony never gave up on claiming this world. The Relay's heavily guarded now. Once those Orbital Defences go online, the citizens can start feeling safe again."

The Chief remained silent, waiting for the Admiral to continue.

Which he did, eventually. "You must feel like you've been kept outside the loop."

The Master Chief frowned. Was this a test? "I am ready to do my duty, sir."

Hackett sighed. "That's one answer. Well, you won't have to wait long. Head down to hangar bay Three. You will find a Pelican waiting for you."

The Master Chief thought it odd that he wasn't given clear parameters, but he knew better than to question a direct order. "Yes sir."

At times like these, the Spartan wished he were armed with more than just a sidearm. It was equipped with a 2X scope and fired rounds that could easily penetrate light to medium body armour, but it lacked crowd-control capabilities.

The Chief wasn't a fool; he knew that something was going on. He wouldn't be aboard one of the UNSC's few remaining Cruisers heading to their sole remaining fortress world if there wasn't something serious going on. On one hand, he was eager to be back in the field, taking the fight to humanity's remaining enemies.

But on the other hand, the last time the Office of Naval Intelligence had been involved during shady testing procedures, he had nearly been killed by an AV-19 SkyHawk missile.

He knew that was part of the test and that it wouldn't happen here, but he just couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. And as Kurt-051 would have said, feelings could be just as valuable as facts.

During training, John's team had often lost to Kurt's team because of his "funny feelings".

Though right now, the Master Chief longed for Cortana's company even more than Kurt's. Translating that odd feeling into an actual plan of action was something that he _really_ needed right now.

The Pelican in the hangar bay brought him down to the surface of Elysium, to a military docking facility. The facility was crowded with military personnel, engineers and dock-workers, all of whom stopped what they were doing and started staring at him in mute awe.

The Chief had learnt a long time ago that people staring at him were part of the course, but that didn't mean he had to like it. In fact, the lack of a proper military objective to be reached as starting to become gloriously obvious as these people stared at him. What was he supposed to do now?

Luckily, the answer swiftly arrived in the form of an UNSC officer. A dark-skinned man in uniform. He was a Liminal, but it wasn't clear what species he was. More importantly, however, was his insignia, which identified him as a Captain.

The Chief immediately saluted him, "Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra One-One-Seven, reporting for duty."

"Captain David Anderson," said the man. "At ease, Master Chief. Don't need you saluting me."

The Master Chief lowered his arm and relaxed somewhat. "Yes sir. What's our mission?"

Anderson smiled somewhat. "Straight to business, I see. The higher-ups have something special in mind for you, Master Chief. If you would follow me…"

The Chief nodded and followed Captain Anderson as the man led him deeper into the docks. He was glad to finally get back to what he knew best. This mission seemed important; Spartans generally weren't sent out on operations that could be handled by other Special Forces. However, he knew that there were still factions out there who wished to harm the UNSC in some way.

The Black Fang, the Insurrectionists, the Templar Order, Brute organizations as well as Elite organizations. And then he hadn't even taken the threats from the Attican Traverse into thought; the Batarian Hegemony was still at war, there were enough pirate and mercenary organizations who wanted payback for military operations in 2546 and the Turian Hierarchy still hadn't found General Levitcus, who appeared to bear a grudge against humanity on par with the Batarians.

No, to say that humanity was safe was plain foolish.

Captain Anderson took the Master Chief to a docking bay that was guarded by soldiers. Four Marines stood at rapt attention, two of which were Extraspecies soldiers.

The Chief instantly recognized the first Marine as a Troll; a very muscular Ogre subspecies. Stronger and larger than regular Ogres, Trolls could reach heights over three meters tall. Their physical prowess allowed them to go toe-to-toe with Brutes and win.

The second Liminal Marine was a little harder to identify, but the stitches gave him away. A Zombie; an undead human with a pain tolerance that could give a Hunter a run for its money. Dismemberment didn't stop those guys, to fully put an undead soldier down, massive trauma to the head was required.

"This way, Chief," Anderson told him.

The Master Chief brushed past the soldiers, all four of whom were looking at him with a mixture of amazement and respect.

There was a ship docked up ahead, but it wasn't any ship he had ever seen before. It had to be some sort of Citadel warship, as it lacked the boxy, armoured frame of UNSC warships. Instead, she was slim in shape, with a bow that was somewhat narrow and curved. The four thrusters that would propel her across space looked more like elongated fins like those found on Wraiths. The top of the ship was white, while the underside was black.

The ship's name was engraved into the side of the ship.

 _UNSC Normandy SR-1_

Normandy…the battle fought during the second World War. Was this vessel meant to be a warship? A new experimental model?

Again, he wished Cortana were here. She would have known. Or she would have plundered the local databases, learning the things that she didn't _yet_ know

Anderson met up with two Turians. One was obviously a female, lacking the crest that the Turian males possessed. She had a slim built and bright eyes. Her red-black armour gave her an almost-threatening look.

"Master Chief," said Anderson. "Meet the Spectre who will be accompanying you on this mission…Saren Arterius."

The Turian male stepped towards him, while the female one stepped away to give them room.

John had read up on Turians, particularly because they had proven so hostile during their First Contact, then so helpful during the Human-Covenant war. It became immediately apparent to him that this one was an unusual sight among Turians; he didn't have any facial tattoos, he had elongated horns extending from the sides of his skull instead of a normal crest and had an artificial left arm.

The Master Chief, for some reason he could not understand, took an instant dislike to him.

"Spartan One-One-Seven," Said the alien. "Humanity's hero. How pleasant to meet you."

John thought he detected a hint of sarcasm in the Turian's voice. Though with their odd flanging speech, he couldn't be sure. "What's a Spectre doing here?" He asked the Captain, never breaking eye-contact with the Turian agent.

He was very glad that he still had his armour on. He would have felt extremely uncomfortable without it, especially now that a Council agent of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance was involved.

"Saren is here to accompany us on the _Normandy's_ maiden voyage," Said Anderson. "The _Normandy_ is a prototype Stealth Frigate, built by a joint-commission of Turian and human engineers."

A Stealth Frigate? Now the Master Chief understood why Admiral Hackett had been so tense; this mission likely served to increase relations between the Turians and the UNSC, especially after recent events in the war left the situation somewhat ambiguous.

"What maiden voyage?" he asked.

It was Saren who answered for him. "This vessel only recently finished construction. It will depart on a shakedown run to one of your colonies, called Eden Prime. As a Council Spectre, it is up to me to make sure all goes well."

The Chief felt aggravated at that, strangely enough. Wasn't a Spartan good enough to warrant the safety of a warship?

But after a moment's thought, it started to make sense to him. This Frigate was the product of a joint Turian-UNSC effort, apparently. It was only logical that the aliens wanted to keep a close eye on it.

But that didn't mean he liked it.

"He's right. Now that you're here, we will be departing in three hours. We've got new equipment for you aboard the ship," concluded Anderson. "Any questions, Master Chief?"

Several. In fact, this entire situation seemed questionable. But the Spartan benched those concerns for now. "No sir."

"Good. Saren I will oversee the final preparations. You should head to the ship, get used to its interior."

The Spartan saluted. "Sir."

But he didn't miss the weird glance that Turian shot him, before departing with the Captain.

Usually, Cortana would have some smart remark at moments like these.

The Master Chief set his concerns and doubts out of his thoughts and headed towards the _Normandy,_ taking notice of how very small she seemed. She wasn't much larger than two-hundred meters, putting her at less the size of a standard USNC Frigate. There wasn't much armour to speak of, though he presumed the warship was outfitted with Kinetic Barriers.

All in all, the Council-funded ship seemed appropriately underwhelming.

The Spartan slowly shook his head and then entered the ship, only to be immediately halted by a closed airlock.

After that, he was finally allowed into the ship. The cockpit of the ship was located to his immediate left, while the rest of the Combat Information Centre was located to his right.

"Master Chief!" Said the man seated in the cockpit's chair. "Good to finally meet you!"

The Spartan had gone through the Battle of Installation 04 and 05, the Battle of Earth and the Battle of the Ark, where every single combatant had known his name. He had been called by the informal "Chief" so many times that even officers were starting to think it was an actual name to refer to him by.

Yet he still hadn't grown used to the fact that total strangers knew him.

The Chief turned to face the helmsman, getting a good look at him. His facial hair was neatly-trimmed and he wore a uniform that seemed standard for UNSC personnel stationed in Council space.

"Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau," he introduced himself without getting out of his seat. "But you can just call me Joker."

The Master Chief wasn't used to military personnel acting this informal with him. Then again, he never really cared that much about non-coms adhering to etiquette, as long as they were competent in their field of duty. "Pleased to meet you, Flight Lieutenant."

This whole situation was going to take a lot of getting used to.

~0~

* * *

 **Citadel Tower**

 **Council Chambers**

"Tevos, Sparatus," Councillor Valern politely addressed his colleagues. I have made my decision."

Sparatus nodded. "So have I."

Tevos folded her fingers against each other, patiently resting her elbows on the table. "As have I."

It didn't happen often that the three of them could reach a consensus without discussions. Then again, it didn't happen often that they gathered for such an important decision as this one. The Citadel Council had come together for a meeting for one purpose and one purpose only: to pick the first human Spectre.

And picking the first human Spectre was a very difficult and very important decision, not to be taken lightly. The definition of Spectre and the definition of human made this much more complicated than it otherwise would be. After all, Spectres represented the Council's power and authority, while humans represented both the actual humans as all their interesting-in-a-non-romantic-way subspecies.

So not only did they need to make a decision that would satisfy the galactic community, they also needed to make a decision that would satisfy humanity as a whole. Now that the Human-Covenant war was over, the tensions between their splinter groups was slowly rising.

"A Spectre needs to be a gifted warrior!" Said Sparatus. "Proud, determined! A leader as well as a soldier!"

"Indeed," Said Tevos. "The Spectres are the last line of defence, keepers of peace and diplomats between entire nations. We need someone who can think quickly and act without using violence alone."

"Exactly," Added Valern. "Spectres must be able to infiltrate, recon and exfiltrate without being spotted. Masters of subtlety, brilliant commandoes. With these criteria, only one individual remains as a proper candidate."

The three of them paused for dramatic effect, then spoke at the exact same time.

"Sergeant Major Avery Junior Johnson!"

"Commander Lillim Heinrich Shepard!"

"Master Chief Petty Officer John One-One-Seven!"

The room became deathly quiet as the three Councillors processed the other suggestions. Then, they just stared at each other in mute disbelief.

"Well, " Sparatus eventually broke the silence. "Do we ever have a problem."

~0~

* * *

 **Elysium**

 **UNSC Dockyard 02**

Corporal Richard Jenkins was running through the hallway of the docks as fast as he could. It was almost impossible for him to hide his excitement as he rushed towards his new assignment, towards the new ship.

The sleek vessel quickly came in view and Jenkins felt a moment of awe as he approached her. Sleek and stealthy, she was the product of a combined effort between Turians and the UNSC. The first of her line, too.

The UNSC _Normandy SR-1_. Her name was etched on the side of the ship in large, bright letters. It was small for a Frigate, but he knew better than to underestimate something because of its size.

As soon as Jenkins entered the ship, he started looking around, taking in the vessel's interior. It all seemed so _new,_ so _advanced._ The layout was completely different from what he was used; the CIC was aft of the major systems and the cockpit and the CO's station was in the back, raised above the rest.

Jenkins spotted a balding, older man in an officer's jacket. He approached the man and snapped off a salute. "Corporal Richard Jenkins. I'm looking for Captain Anderson, sir."

"Well, you won't find him here yet, son," said the man. "I'm Navigator Pressly. You want to check in with our XO. She's near the back, at the comm room, talking to the man himself."

Jenkins felt somewhat confused at that statement. Captain Anderson wasn't here yet, but his XO was talking with the man himself? Didn't that just mean the Captain was here?

But the young Corporal knew better than to question an officer, especially one whom he would be working with in the future.

"Of course," said Jenkins. He hastily headed towards the comm room, opposite of the elevator. He was so eager to start working in this place, to show the crew what he was capable of, that he didn't really pay attention to the two conversing individuals until he was standing but a few feet away from.

He snapped off a practiced salute, managed to state his name and rank and then proceeded to lose all ability to speak, talk or even think when he saw who he had just saluted to.

There, seven feet tall and clad in the famous green battlesuit, stood the Master freaking Chief himself.

Had Jenkins not made it through basic training with a nightmare of a Sergeant, he would have wet himself then and there. Probably fainted, too. Just for good measure.

The two had been talking. Not anymore. Now they were facing him.

Jenkins knew that he was staring. A bit impolite. Impossible to stop, though. He was standing in the same room as Spartan One-One-Seven, humanity's greatest hero. A living, breathing weapon. The sole reason that any of them were still alive.

If he was lucky, he could tell his grandchildren about this. That he had met the Master Chief himself.

"Corporal?"

Jenkins snapped out of it. His Drill Sergeant would have had his ass in a sling if he knew that he had been gaping off at the Master Chief. "Sir. I'm looking for Captain Anderson's XO, sir."

The person standing next to the Master Chief spoke up. "That would be me, Corporal."

Jenkins looked at her and his heart nearly stopped. And just when he had recovered the ability to talk, too.

She was taller than the average human, that was for sure. Her wings were folded across her back, but there was no mistaking the graceful curvature of her horns, the complete blackness of her sclera or sharp facial features.

An Elder Devil. Jenkins had only ever _read_ about them! One of the longest-lived Liminal species there was, wise and experienced beyond measure, and she stood right in front of him!

An Elder Devil and the Master Chief. '

Jenkins was pretty sure that the strain on his heart had lessened his life by about twenty years, but it was worth every moment.

"Corporal Jenkins, ma'am," he weakly said.

She raised a slender eyebrow. "I heard you the first time, Corporal."

Her eyes, filled with a sharp, yellow colour, looked like they pierce straight through him. "I-I'm sorry ma'am!"

"Your arrival has been logged, Corporal," she then spoke. Her voice was much friendly this time, almost warm and kind. "You have a locker on the lower deck, you can store your gear there. Captain Anderson will be arriving any moment now. Until then, you're dismissed."

"Yes ma'am," Jenkins said again. He had almost introduced himself for the third time.

She then smiled at him, instantly reducing the young Corporal to nothing more than a trembling little Private. "Go on then, get moving."

"Jenkins, ma'am! I mean, yes ma'am!"

He grabbed his gear, dutifully saluted the Elder Devil and the Master Chief and headed straight towards his locker, blushing so heavily that it felt like he was going to burst into flames any moment now.

The next few weeks were going to be awesome!

~0~

* * *

The Master Chief watched the rookie leave, slowly shaking his head with disapproval. The next few weeks were going to be troublesome.

"Oh dear," sighed Shepard. "I feared that might happen."

"Why?"

The Elder Devil looked at him like he had just asked her how to reload. "And then people say you have a brilliant tactical mind…you have become quite the famous little Spartan, Master Chief. There is not a single person in the galaxy who does not know your…ahem, visage."

The Chief didn't like how familiar the Commander spoke to him. It had to be a racial thing. "Right…"

"It can't be helped, I suppose. I should return to my duties soon. I do have one parting gift for you, if you do not mind."

A parting gift? The Spartan wasn't sur if he should trust that one. Not because he thought the Commander might be harbouring hostile intent towards him, but because he had no way to predict how she acted. Liminal behaviour was already hard enough to predict on its own, but Devil behaviour took that uncertainty up to eleven.

"What sort of gift?" He asked, trying not to sound too suspicions.

Her eyes narrowed as she smiled. It almost made her look predatory. "Captain Anderson was entrusted with her by the Office of Naval Intelligence. I suppose they reasoned you might need assistance in this new age."

She offered her right hand to him, palm's-up. A small, blue chip lay in her hand, one that the Master Chief instantly recognized.

Slowly, very carefully, he reached for her hand, gently picking up Cortana's AI chip. "Anderson was contacted by ONI?" He asked as he inserted the chip into the slot of his helmet. There was an almost-mute hissing noise, and then cold liquid poured into the Master Chief's mind; a spike of pain jammed into his forehead, then faded.

" _You wouldn't BELIEVE the hoops we had to jump through to get me back to you."_

The Master Chief muted his external comms. "It's good to have you back, Cortana."

" _It's good to be back, Chief. Now then, I've got done a lot of listening. Now, I'm going to do a lot of talking, and you are going to do the listening."_

Commander Shepard was looking at him with a faint smug, as if she knew precisely what was going on inside his head. "It does explain your success," she said.

The Master Chief cocked an eyebrow. "Cortana wasn't active until 2547," he replied.

The Elder Devil's smugness faded somewhat. "I would tell you that you were dismissed, Spartan, but I assume you make your own decisions. Well…up until thirty seconds ago."

" _Hmm…wonder what she means by that?"_ Cortana quipped, not sounding the least bit like she doubted what the Commander meant. " _Oh well. Let's get to our quarters, Chief. You've got a lot of catching up to do!"_

"Thank you, Commander," the Master Chief said. He meant it.

"Of course. It is the least one such as I can do for one such as yourself…for now."

And with that last remark, the Commander left the comm room, leaving the Spartan on his own.

In a manner of speaking.

" _We are currently heading towards the Mass Relay pointed at the Exodus Cluster, where we'll find Eden Prime. I would tell you that this isn't your average shakedown run, but something tells me you already know that."_

"A Council Spectre is on board with us," replied the Chief.

" _So you've noticed? That would be the equivalent of sending a Spartan team to a listening post. I for one think there's something interesting at Eden Prime, which they don't want us to discover."_

The Master Chief headed towards the elevator. "Something that warrants a Stealth Frigate?"

" _Perhaps. Though I have read reports of something bigger on the Citadel waiting for us."_

"The Citadel?"

" _Yeah, you know? The big space station of Council Space, the centre of galactic civilization?"_

The elevator started descending, taking them down to the cargo hold. "You read reports of something going on at the Citadel, and you don't have details?"

" _Is that scepticism I sense?"_

The Chief had to admit that Cortana was usually more informative than this. "Something bigger means a lot of things."

" _Yeah, I know. Let's just keep that a secret for now, shall we? Anyway, your equipment is usually stored in your personal locker. Right now, you should find the Requisition's Officer. He holds your equipment."_

After what felt like an eternity, the elevator finally took them to the cargo bay. The doors opened, allowing the Spartan a good view of the _Normandy's_ storage section. A heavy APC was stored to the right, together with several crates of military ordnance and machinery.

The lockers were stationed to the left, where currently only a single member of the _Normandy's_ staff was stationed. It was impossible to mistake her for anything other than a Liminal soldier, a Dragon to be precise. Her wings, just like Shepard's, were folded tightly against her back, though hers were much larger than the Commander's. A thick, elongated tail protruded from underneath her spine, which the Chief knew could snap human bones like twigs with a single whip.

The woman glanced over her shoulder when she heard the elevator coming to a stop. She had vertical irises, like a reptile would, but they had that same yellow tint as Shepard's had.

The Chief noticed that her blonde hair was somewhat longer than regulations would allow; the bangs at the side of her face even reached to her shoulders.

Having offered him nothing more than an idle glance, the woman returned to her business, not even bothering to greet him.

John felt grateful for that. He was just here to do his duty, not mingle with every helmsman aboard the ship.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling he had seen her before.

The Requisition's Officer stood next to the APC, fumbling around with one of the crates. The Master Chief approached him.

"Ah, Master Chief!" The Officer immediately saluted him. "Captain Anderson informed me you'd be coming. I've got your gear right here, sir."

The Officer proceeded to open one of the crates and lay down an array of weapons across the top of another crate, displaying the various firearms and their modifications.

"Citadel races often use the Mass Effect for their weapons, preferring mass accelerator weapons above chemically-propelled weapons. And who can blame them? Now, these weapon don't have an inbuilt field generator, but the spooks at the Office were still eager to give you the top of the line."

The Chief didn't spot an immediate difference between these models and the ones he had been working with, apart from different aesthetics.

"Now, the first is the Assault Rifle. They've dubbed it the MA6 series, but that name is still being contested. Nothing special at first glance, right? Sixty round mag, HUD-linked scope, 7.62mm ammo, armour-piercing for your convenience. Go ahead Chief, pick it up."

The Spartan grabbed the rifle and raised it to his shoulder, taking great care not to aim at anything important in case the weapon was faulty.

First rule of trigger discipline, as they had been taught by Mendez. Never aim at anything you don't want to destroy.

He immediately felt that the weapon was lighter than the normal MA5 series. The frame felt different, too. "Lighter and sturdier. Balance lies to the rear."

"I knew if there was one man who could appreciate a good overhaul, it'd be you, Chief. Technological with Citadel tech allowed for lighter weapons of sturdier frame. They're easier to carry, but you'll still beat an angry alien to death in one hit."

The Chief could appreciate that; during previous engagements on Halo, he had often been forced to trek back and forth to carry different weapons for different purposes. This would come in handy.

As the Requisition's Officer took went through the pieces of gear with him, the Chief noticed that nothing was really new. The UNSC had fielded all these designs during the war, but one total loss after the other had completely depleted their stock of advanced weapon systems.

"The M90 Shotgun Close Quarters Weapon System, featuring a semi-automatic firing system and a magazine-fed munition system. That'll put those Brutes in their place, right?"

A weapon like that could burn through its ammo extremely quick. Nevertheless, the Chief remembered every single time he had faced off against the Flood and found himself unable to reload fast enough to stem their never-ending assaults.

"M8D Magnum series, first of its kind apparently. Larger magazine, selectable fully-automatic firing mode. Recoil's a bitch though and you'll burn through your ammo in a second or two. Last but definitely not least, the SR3 Sniper Rifle. Selectable zoom, greater platform stability and a _much_ larger magazine. Just in case you absolutely have to headshot ten footmobiles without reloading."

These were all upgrades that would have greatly aided him throughout the last year of the Human-Covenant war. The Chief had the feeling that these weren't just standard upgrades of infantry weapon systems, but more like firearms specifically tailored to his needs.

Either one of his surviving Spartans had wished really hard, or this was someone's idea of a gift.

The Chief wasn't about to complain however. He took an hour to get familiar with the new weapons before stashing them away in his personal locker.

Over the course of the day, John tried to familiarize himself with the interior of the _Normandy,_ generally staying away from her crew. He learned that Captain Anderson had been assigned to the _Normandy_ because of displays of bravery and a much-appreciated ability to keep a secret when required. Commander Lillim Shepard, easily two centuries old, served as his Executive Officer because her odd mannerisms and different perception on the world had resulted in enough promotions and cases of insubordination to keep her steady at her current rank. Every decade or so, she'd get busted down in rank, before the Brass decided that she was skilled and intelligent enough to promote her again.

The Chief thought he recognized a pattern there. Was she intentionally trying to keep from being promoted? To stay in the field, or for some other, less obvious reason?

He didn't know. And if Cortana knew, she didn't tell him.

That Dragon-girl was another curious case. The crew of the _Normandy_ seemed close enough, yet they all steered away from her. When she entered a room, the crew turned to look the other way. And she in turn ignored them fully.

Even Jenkins, who had grown up never seeing any Liminals, gave her a wide berth.

While her Service Vitae Record wasn't as lengthy as Shepard's was, it was still significant. Batarian slavers had raided her home, a colony called Mindoir, causing her to sign up with the UNSC Marine Corps at a significantly-younger age than most recruits did. Her career was filled with violence and accomplishments. Three bronze stars, four purple stars and one silver star, yet she was still a Specialist. She had declined every promotion, including not one, but two offers to join the prestigious M7 Special Forces department.

The Master Chief couldn't fathom why. She was certainly skilled enough, if her accomplishments during the Skyllian Blitz were anything to go by.

He supposed it didn't matter. He hoped he would get transferred out soon enough; a ship wasn't home.

The battlefield was.

"Spartan," went the voice of the only alien on the _Normandy_. The Chief turned around to see just about the last person he wanted to see.

"Arterius."

Saren crossed his arms. "We are coming up on the Mass Relay. Captain Anderson wants you prepped and ready for combat the moment we reach Eden Prime. Unless you've grown… _rusty_."

The Chief glared at the Turian. "Spartans don't grow rust."

The Turian snorted. "I look forward to seeing that, then."

With that, the Spectre skulked off, leaving John in a considerably-worse mood.

" _Joke's on him!"_ Cortana chimed in. " _The MJOLNIR doesn't rust!"_

"Is every Citadel race this obnoxious?" Asked the Chief.

" _Not really -well…to be honest? I think you'd best find out for yourself. The people in Council space are a lot more open-minded than those in UNSC space. Most won't bother you."_

"Most?"

" _You know, I think you'd better head up to the cockpit. We're hitting the Mass Relay in a few minutes and it's one ancient alien artefact you don't want to miss."_

The Spartan wasn't so certain about that. He had interacted with enough alien artefacts as it was. Still, he wasn't going to go against Cortana's wishes just yet. As he made his way to the cockpit, where "Joker" was navigating the _Normandy_ towards the Mass Relay, the helmsman's voice came through the intercom.

" _The Relay is in range."_

Joker was accompanied by Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, a Biotic. According to Cortana, Biotics could use telekinetic powers because of exposure to Element Zero in the womb.

The Chief didn't know a lot more about that, because every time he asked about Element Zero, the AI would go on a rant about how the name didn't make any sense because an element zero would indicate that it would contain no particles, or something like that. He would lose his interest shortly thereafter.

"We are connected. Calculating transit mass and destination. The Relay is hot, acquiring approach vector."

The _Normandy_ had that same disastrous built most UNSC warships had; the cockpit or bridge was positioned behind the main viewport, giving potential hostiles a straight shot into the bridge.

The Chief disapproved. Then again, he wasn't a ship technician.

Still, the sight allowed him a good view of the Mass Relay as they approached it. The thing was massive. Blue in colour, with long metal arms pointing outwards like a tuning fork. It's internal core pulsed with life as rings spun around it.

"Hitting the Relay in 3…2…1…"

It happened in a flash. A bolt of blue light enveloped the viewport and the ship lurched, but only for a moment. The blue light intensified and in an instant, it was gone.

As the Flight Lieutenant checked the thrusters, navigation and heat transmission, muttering something about drift, the Master Chief looked at the stars that now filled the viewport.

"That took four seconds," he muttered to Cortana. "We travelled hundreds of lightyears in a few seconds."

" _In a hundredth of a second, actually. That lightshow was just to get the ship primed. The actual traveling was almost instant."_

The Spartan couldn't fathom it. If they had possessed this technology during the Human-Covenant war…

No. These Mass Relays were artefacts left by an extinct alien race. There was no saying what their true purpose was, or how they really worked. Slipspace was less efficient, but at least they understood it.

Within the broadest definition of understanding, of course.

"So Chief, what do you think?" Said the Flight Lieutenant. "Impressive, right?"

When the Master Chief didn't respond, Kaidan took over. "I think the Master Chief has seen enough alien artefacts in his lifetime, Joker."

"Yeah, of course I know that. I was talking about my piloting, thank you very much!"

The Spartan had the idea he was missing something. "It was acceptable," he replied.

Joker's chair whirled around so fast that Kaidan jumped. "Acceptable? Master Chief, remembering to zip up your jumpsuit on the way of a bathroom is acceptable! I just jumped us halfway across the galaxy and hit a target the size of a pinhead! That's not acceptable, that's incredible!"

Again with that odd, snarky manner of responding. Where was the discipline, the air of professionalism? What sort of vessel was this?

"So how do you like Council space thus far, Master Chief?" Asked Kaidan

He didn't have a clear answer to that. "I'm assuming the hostile organizations display different tactics than the Covenant does."

"You don't need worry about hostiles, Chief. You won't be finding Batarians in Council space and-"

"Yeah, then what about the Black Fang?" Joker shot back.

Alenko rolled with his eyes. "Joker, come on. We've talked about this."

"Yes, and I stick with my points! Those Monster-people all a bunch of terrorists and murderers and the worst part is, you'll never see it coming!"

The Black Fang…anti-human Liminal extremists. "Is their presence in Council space that significant?" Asked the Chief.

"You betcha."

"The Black Fang is not indicative of the standard Extraspecies state of mind!" Argued Kaidan. "Not every Liminal person is a part of the Black Fang, Joker."

Moreau had his reply ready the instant Kaidan finished talking. "Not every Monster, but _any._ And that's the big difference."

"You're paranoid. And the proper term is Liminal individuals, Joker. Calling them Monsters is offensive."

But even as the Staff Lieutenant dismissed the pilot's claims, the Master Chief thought back to the UNSC's war with the Insurrectionists. Not every citizen in the Outer Colonies had been a terrorist, but almost every time soldiers had died to them, it had been because someone they didn't suspected attacked them at a critical moment, often without any regard for their personal safety.

"Insurrectionist attacks claimed hundreds of lives every year, at minimum," said the Chief. "The UNSC can't afford that, not now it's so vulnerable."

"See?" Moreau said with a smirk. "The Master Chief agrees with me."

Before Kaidan could deliver a retort, Captain Anderson called for them through the intercom. "Joker, status report!"

"Ehm, sir, we just cleared the Mass Relay. Stealth systems engaged, everything's looking solid."

The Chief took notice of the curt way the Captain spoke, especially when he requested the Chief's presence in the comm room.

"You better head down there sir," said Kaidan. "The Captain sounds…cross."

"He's always cross."

"Only when he's talking to you, Joker."

The Master Chief shook his head at their behaviour. Everything about this ship was so informal, so…directionless.

He marched through the CIC towards the comm room, brushing past the Navigator as he discussed something with an Engineer. He spotted the young Corporal in a similar discussion with the ship's head Medical Officer, doctor Chakwas.

" _Seems you're not the only one who's on edge because of this Spectre business,"_ said Cortana.

"I'm not on edge," replied the Chief.

" _Then you're doing a fine job of emulating that feeling. Come on Spartan, the Captain wants to talk to us."_

The doors to the comm room slid open soundlessly, revealing not the Captain, but the Turian Spectre, Saren Arterius.

John repressed the urge to whip out his pistol and shoot the alien in his head. Saren wasn't an immediate hostile, but there was something about the brooding Council agent that he just couldn't place. His sudden appearance in place of Anderson was even more suspicious.

"Where's the Captain?" Demanded the Chief. The only reason he hadn't pulled his gun out was because he was certain he could dispatch of the alien in close quarters.

"Greetings to you, too," Saren sarcastically shot back. He turned around and raised his head, glaring at the Chief. "Spartan."

The Master Chief glared right back. He hadn't pegged the Turian as an ally yet. There were enough human deaths thanks to aliens as it was. He _refused_ to let this Spectre add to their casualty list.

"A staring contest? Truly?"

Saren's expression grew even darker as Commander Shepard entered the room, which was an observation the Chief wouldn't forget.

"Lillim" growled Saren. "How _pleasant_ of you to join us."

The Elder Devil placed a hand on the Chief's shoulder as she brushed past him, which was odd, because there was plenty of manoeuvring space. "I thought Spectres and Spartans were above the alluring prospects of domination. It seems I was mistaken."

She was closely followed by Captain Anderson, prompting the Chief to salute. "Sir."

He was relieved to see the Captain was unharmed.

"It is about time Saren and I told you two what is really going on. This mission is far more than a simple shakedown run."

Shepard flashed the Captain a charming smile. "Captain my Captain, we already understood that. There is something on Eden Prime of great importance is there not?"

"Possibly alien?" Added the Chief, remembering Cortana's description.

Anderson stared at the two of them with a blank expression. He frowned, then sighed. "I should have seen that one coming…alright. We found a Beacon at a research site on Eden Prime. A Prothean Beacon."

" _Ooh…now_ that's _interesting!"_

"Prothean?" Asked Shepard. "The ones who created the Mass Relays?"

"Exactly. Who knows what secrets a working Prothean Beacon could contain."

"This goes beyond human interests," Saren bluntly informed them. "We will need to take it to the Citadel for observation. Every species could benefit from this discovery."

The Master Chief, not intent on keeping a single alien artefact near any population centre, couldn't disagree.

"I did not take you for an archaeologist, Saren," Shepard told the Spectre.

Said Spectre grunted with disapproval. "I'm not. My presence here has a different reason."

Anderson softly inhaled, standing just that much straighter. "Saren wants to see you two in action. He's here to evaluate you."

Shepard merely curtsied the Captain like civilian royalty, but the Master Chief was a lot less amused by that revelation.

"Evaluate, sir?"

"Humanity is gaining more political power, Master Chief," Anderson explained. "It makes a lot of people unhappy, but our sheer diversity makes us perfect for almost every job. Our Liminal population offers a solution to almost every single problem the Council races face. The time for the first UNSC Spectre has come."

"Oh, splendid!" Said Shepard. "Spectres represent the Council's authority and power. This will prove to the galaxy that humanity can do so much more than wage war!"

The Master Chief noticed that the Commander acted different. She wasn't like she was on the battlefield. "Are we both Spectre candidates?" He asked.

Saren huffed. "Both of you showed some competence in different areas, but being a Spectre means more than being able to defuse a dangerous situation or eliminating enemy armies."

"The UNSC needs this Chief, Commander. We're all counting on you."

" _Huh,"_ Cortana snipped. " _So no pressure at all."_

"Yes, I don't doubt that," Saren said with a deadpan voice. "This will be the first of several missions together. I do hope you two won't disappoint."

"Do not worry your cute little head, Saren," teases Shepard. "You will be in for a treat."

"We will depart for Eden Prime immediately," Anderson said, glaring at the Elder Devil with a stern look. "After that, you will-"

He wasn't able to finish his next sentence. This time, Anderson was the one interrupted through the intercom. " _Captain!"_ Yelled Flight Lieutenant Moreau. " _We've got a problem!"_

Anderson frowned. Captains weren't interrupted by Junior Officers. "What's wrong, Joker?"

" _Transmission from Eden Prime, sir. You better see this."_

"Bring it up on screen!" Anderson loudly replied, likely recognizing the urgency of the situation.

The Master Chief tensed up when the screen flared to life, displaying a squad of Marines engaged by unknown forces. The owner of the camera was shaking, as if running from something. Several detonations went off in the distance, rippling through the audio and making it hard to make out what was being said.

A Marine dove towards the camera and pushed the owner to the ground. "Down!" She yelled.

The Spartan wasn't able to get a fix on the hostiles, and the shaking camera didn't make things better.

" _We are under attack!"_ Yelled one of the Marines. The owner of the camera turned to face a human male, without a helmet. " _Taking heavy casualties!"_

He was interrupted by a rumbling noise that made even the Master Chief feel uncomfortable. He felt a shiver run down his spine as the Marines stopped their fire and all turned to stare at something, frozen in place by fear and awe.

It was a ship. An enormous ship that slowly ascended into the sky, its five massive tentacles slowly opening like a massive, clawed hand. Arcs of red lightning shot across its frame.

That deep, buzzing horn…it felt _wrong._ Like it wasn't a sound that shouldn't be able to exist.

The owner of the camera was struck by enemy fire several chaotic moments later and the image turned to static.

It didn't come back online again,

" _Everything cuts out after that. No comm traffic at all. Just goes dead. There's nothing."_ The Flight Lieutenant sounded so serious. It clashed with how he normally acted.

Which made Captain Anderson's next order that much more silly

"Reverse and hold at 38.5," he said, glaring intently at the screen.

Which didn't have any time counters.

Commander Shepard cocked an eyebrow, pointed a finger at the screen as if confused, then shot a glance at the Chief. "Did he…?"

The Chief shrugged. The implication that Anderson actually counted the exact time until the strange ship's appearance might be somewhat unsettling, but it didn't diminish the fact that yet another human colony had come under attack.

The resulting image was that of the hand-shaped ship. At that angle, it almost looked like half the _Unyielding Hierophant_.

Or a giant squid, as Johnson would call it.

"Status report!" Demanded Anderson.

" _Seventeen minutes out, Captain. No other UNSC ships in the area."_

"Take us in Joker, fast and quiet. This mission just got a lot more complicated."

"I propose we strike now," Said Saren. "A small strike team can still secure the Beacon."

"Commander Shepard, take Alenko and secure that Beacon. Master Chief, take Specialist Victorias and Corporal Jenkins and got in heavy. Two teams have a better chance at succeeding than one. Meet us in the cargo hold"

The Master Chief saluted. "Sir."

~0~

* * *

 **Ten minutes later**

 _ **Normandy**_ **cargo hold**

Jenkins couldn't believe his luck. On his first actual combat deployment, he'd be fighting alongside the Master Chief himself! And not just that, he would also be seeing action together with a Liminal soldier. An actual, breathing Monster-girl! And not just any Monster-girl, but a member of the much-vaunted Dragon species!

Oh, Jenkins had heard about her alright. The Predator of the Blitz, the Butcher of Torfan. An absolutely-ruthless soldier, who didn't take shit from anybody.

It was such a shame she seemed like such a sociopath. Corporal Jenkins had to admit that the girl frightened him. He had heard all sorts of nasty rumours about her and if even _one_ of them was true, she saw see him and all the crewmembers of the _Normandy_ as a nuisance at best.

And as prey for when she got hungry at worst.

But he wouldn't be scared by a Monster-girl, not when the Master Chief was here! He would show the Spartan what he could do and he would save his home from the invading aliens!

"Your team's the muscle in this operation, Master Chief," Captain Anderson debriefed them. "Take the heat off of the Commander's back while she secures the Beacon!"

"What about survivors, Captain?" Asked Kaidan.

"Helping survivors is a secondary objective. The Beacon's your priority!"

Jenkins knew that the Captain couldn't be serious. They were soldiers! Helping the innocent was what duty was all about! Of course the Beacon was important, but this was his home that was being ravaged! He knew the people down there and if they needed saving, he wouldn't hesitate a _second_.

Still, Jenkins knew that the Chief wouldn't let an alien beat him!

" _Approaching drop point one,"_ reported Joker.

Jenkins spotted the Turian Spectre approach the cargo bay doors for the and his heart leapt. "Saren! You coming with us?"

The Turian gave him a sneering look before leaping out of the cargo bay.

Likely moved faster on his own.

" _Approaching drop point two."_

The ground leapt away underneath them as the ship passed over a ravine, before reaching the second drop point. The ground proceeded to rapidly approach again, but neither the Master Chief nor the Dragon-girl seemed to recognize that people actually needed a safe jump distance, however. They gave absolutely zero shits and leapt out of the ship.

Jenkins gulped and, after a short moment of hesitation, moved to follow them. He wasn't about to chicken out when the two of them could take the jump!

He leapt out of the ship as well, following the example set by the Chief and the Dragon.

The problem was, however, that the Chief was a super-soldier wearing power armour and that Dragon Liminals were supposedly incredibly hard to damage. Jenkins, on the other hand, was a squishy human who very narrowly avoided making a splat on Eden Prime's surface.

He landed very painfully and crashed to the ground, rolling to an awkward standstill. Once he lay there, the Corporal discovered that it was almost impossible to breathe, so he just lay there, dazed.

Had he broken his legs? All of his legs? It felt like his knees had travelled all the way up to his shoulders.

By the time he recovered enough to be able to think, the Master Chief and the Specialist had already established a perimeter.

"Why did you jump, Corporal?" Demanded the Master Chief.

Jenkins suddenly felt his ears sting with heat. "Well…after you two jumped, sir, I figured I would look bad if didn't follow. Sir," he admitted sheepishly.

The Master Chief's visor kept trained on his face. It wasn't hard to imagine a pair of steel eyes glaring down at him.

After what felt like an eternity, the Spartan moved away. "You've got point, Corporal. Stay focused and get moving."

Jenkins shakily climbed back to his feet, snapped off a brief "Sir!" and moved up. Now that he had air, the true horror of the situation started to sink in. This was home. _His_ home. Eden Prime was where he was born and raised and now, it was under attack.

He had been brought up with stories about the Covenant. The alien menace that would simply drop out of the sky and burn everyone.

Well, this wasn't the Covenant, but that didn't mean there weren't casualties. Every now and then, a charred and burnt body could be seen lying on the ground. Unrecognizable.

My god. What happened here?"

He wondered if they were people he knew. Teachers…friends…family? There was no way of knowing.

Unsure how to deal with this situation, Jenkins reverted back to the one thing he knew: his training.

The Master Chief moved with unflinching determination as he swept his rifle from the left to the right, covering all possible areas of approach. The Dragon-girl loosely covered their left approach, carrying a shotgun and an assault rifle. Her expression was one of stern focus, but Jenkins didn't know how long that would last.

Still, having the legendary Spartan-One-One-Seven lead this mission made Jenkins feel safer. Reassured.

The Master Chief suddenly made a hand signal and stopped. In response, Jenkins knelt down next to him. Had he seen something?

Whatever it was, he gave another hand signal. The order to move forward.

When a commanding officer gave you the order to move forwards, you moved forwards. When a Spartan told you move forwards, you made that your one priority in life to fulfil.

Jenkins rushed forwards, eager to defend his home. Eager to show the Spartan what he was made of.

In his eagerness to engage the enemy, he forewent the nuances of actually moving forwards. He forgot to make use of the nearby cover and thus, when he suddenly heard the electronic whine of antigrav machines, he was still standing in the middle of the open.

A trio of scout drones came flying around the corner. Jenkins had never seen drones before and he wasn't fast enough to open fire.

They, however, didn't have that problem. They opened fire on the only target they saw; him.

Everything happened so fast Jenkins felt something impact on his chest, but something massive blurred in front of him, hiding the drones from view. Automatic weapons roared, three explosions followed suit and Jenkins fell on his back, his heart pounding. Battered, but alive.

~0~

* * *

The Master Chief lowered his rifle, eyeing the three ruined wreckages that had once been unmanned combat drones and surveyed the battlefield. His 7.62mm rifle rounds had ripped through these drones without trouble. Good. Whatever hostiles were attacking this colony were still vulnerable to small arms fire.

"Watch the perimeter," he told the Specialist, before checking up on the Corporal. The boy had grown too confident, charged out in the open with reckless abandon. Had he been wearing the aging Marine BDU without kinetic barriers, he would have been dead. Even now, his armour seemed badly damaged.

The Master Chief grabbed the Marine by his arm and hauled him back to his feet. "That was reckless," the snapped. "You do that again, you could get your team killed. Check your surroundings, stick to cover."

The Corporal shakily saluted. "Sir."

"The mission is our priority. Am I understood, Corporal?"

The Marine straightened his back. "Sir! Yes sir!"

The Dragon-girl snorted, but didn't otherwise comment.

The Chief nodded. "Specialist, take point. We still have a Beacon to get to."

~0~

* * *

Commander Lilim Shepard supposed that the enemy had their attention now. Multiple teams of what she could only guess were Geth, robotic creations of the Quarians, were sweeping through the area, as if seeking to reinforce their position.

Luckily, they were moving away from the dig site and not towards it. If the gunfire in the distance was anything to go by, the Master Chief and his team had their attention. These hostiles wouldn't be expecting an incursion in their midst at this very moment.

If only that meant they could launch a crippling strike at this very moment.

The Marine was running for her life, almost desperate. She had foregone the erratic sidesteps and jumps that would throw enemy shooters off for additional speed.

A shot hit her in the back and her barriers only barely managed to shrug it off. Still, she stumbled to a painful halt and scrambled for cover behind a few protruding rocks.

Had she been leading her regular team, Lilim would have simply charged their position, overwhelmed them with sheer firepower and mobility and secured the dig site up ahead. But Kaidan Alenko wasn't an ODST,

Still, he was good. Almost good enough for what the Elder Devil currently had in mind.

Outflanking the enemy was a standard strategy, which should be employed as often as possible. The Commander ordered her Staff Lieutenant to stay put until she engaged the enemy, whereupon she made use of her unmatched mobility on the battlefield to get herself in position.

The two androids didn't see her until she was standing within several feet of them. She opened fire with twin SMG's and tore through their shields within a second. Then, the caseless rounds tore into their robotic frames, shattering their armoured outer shell. White liquid spurted from the gaping holes.

Kaidan meanwhile struck one of the hostiles with a Warp field, rendering its armour vulnerable to the subsequent pistol rounds that impacted it.

The Elder Devil could see Kaidan was a true Citadel Theatre boy; he favoured mass accelerator weapons above UNSC ordnance. It was amusing to see how many soldiers adhered to the cliché.

Shepard swiftly reloaded her left SMG and fired off another burst at the last remaining enemy. She overloaded its shields and Kaidan Biotically Threw it to the ground.

"Make sure that one died," the Commander ordered, before checking up on the Marine they had just rescued. She wore a rather feminine version of the Citadel hardsuit design. She too wielded mass accelerator weapons.

When the woman looked at Lilim, she did so with an expression of suspicion, anger and accusation. It wasn't overt and most species, including humans, wouldn't have been able to see those emotions at all.

But she did, which meant that it was there.

"Up you go," the Elder Devil chirped. "On your feet."

The Marine blinked a few times, then slowly crawled back to her feet.

"Lieutenant Commander Lilim Shepard." Lilim introduced herself with a curtsy, somewhat mocking in nature. She too had to adhere to certain aspects of her race, did she not?

The woman recovered somewhat and her composure hardened, returning to that of a soldier instead of a victim. "Ma'am. Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212…thanks for the assistance," she then added somewhat grudgingly.

"Greetings, Williams. Listen to me. We are on a secret joint Spectre-UNSC mission. I am going to ask for details and you will give them to me in short, easy sentences."

The woman's eyes narrowed, but she complied nonetheless. Good; that meant her discipline and training won out over any feelings or intent she might harbour. "My unit and I were on a perimeter patrol when they hit us. They cut off our communications, we couldn't call for assistance. I've been fighting for my life since."

Kaidan, having secured the area, joined them. "Where's the rest of your unit?" He asked.

Williams lowered her head. "Dead. I'm the only one left."

Shepard felt a twinge of sympathy. "You have my condolences. Are these Geth?"

"I think."

Kaidan frowned. He was sceptical. "But the Geth haven't left the Perseus Veil in…what, three hundred years?"

"I think they're here for the Beacon."

Lilim smiled. "Ah, you know of your secret objective? Marvellous. Then we do not have to breach protocol. Where is it?"

William suddenly looked very nervous. "The dig site over there. It might still be there."

"Then you should come with us. We have somewhat of a tight schedule."

"Ma'am?" Asked Kaidan. "Are we expecting enemy reinforcements?"

"Hmmm…not really. I just do not want the Master Chief to get there first, so let us make haste!"

At the mere mentioning of the Spartan's name, the Gunnery Chief's attitude did a complete one-eighty. "The Master Chief? You're not messing with me? Ma'am?" She quickly added.

"Of course not. And if you still wish to see him-"

Williams unfolded her assault rifle again. "A race against a Spartan? Come on, let's get these guys!"

~0~

* * *

Spartan One-One-Seven halted, then sneezed.

" _Gesundheit._ _You know what they say, right? Someone's talking about you."_

The Master Chief checked the sights on his Shotgun. "I don't think it works like that. "

" _Of course it does. Anyway, I have a feeling Shepard isn't going to sit around. You wanna beat her to that Beacon, you better keep moving."_

Somewhat amused, the Chief pressed on. "This is a vital operation with humanity's diplomatic status on the line. It's not a race."

" _I know the mission is important. It's also a race."_

He rolled with his eyes. "Whatever."

They double-timed it to the next section, where he spotted what had to be the enemy's counterattack to their assault.

There were eleven of the little ones, standing at the ready. There were also two larger ones, which gave the Spartan pause. They stood eleven feet tall, easily. Covered in a dark grey armour with yellow stripes, they looked like a fearful foe.

He signalled the team to stop, then paused. Only half his team was present. Specialist Victorias knelt down behind one of the boulders and gazed at the enemy encampment, but the Corporal was nowhere to be seen.

"Jenkins?"

The Marine came stumbling after him, panting and wheezing. "I'm good…Chief…" he muttered in-between desperate gasps for air. "Right…behind…you…"

He didn't so much take cover as fall face-first into cover, his chest rapidly rising and falling.

The Master Chief turned his attention back to the enemy position. He had been pushing onwards like a Spartan would. The Dragon-girl had no trouble keeping up, but he had forgotten that regular humans generally fell behind when he did that.

He needed to slow down, in that regard.

He hit TEAMCOM. "Stand by. Jenkins, you provide covering fire. Dracosa, target the big one to the left. I'll hit the one on the right. They go down, we move out. On my go."

The assault force moved closer.

"Stand by."

The Specialist fidgeted. She dug her nails into the rocks and her tail twitched.

Jenkins took aim.

"Stand by."

The Dragon jumped the gun. She whirled around her cover and launched herself at the towering android, immediately engaging it in close quarters combat.

The Master Chief cursed under his breath. "Engage!" He barked, already leaping out of cover to target the hostiles. He blasted one of the robots in its flashlight-shaped head and took it clean off, then targeted one to his right, blowing a hole through its chest.

The massive android charged him.

The Master Chief pumped three devastating shotgun rounds into its centre of mass to lower its shields and lashed out with his leg when it came close enough. The stop-kick shattered the armour around the hostile's midsection and sent ripples through the metal of the surrounding armour, breaching that too.

Stumbling backwards, the massive robot attempted to bring its own weapon up.

The Chief didn't give him that chance. He jumped atop the hostile, pressed the barrel of his shotgun against its head and pulled the trigger, twice. The first blast sheared off half its head, while the second one completely decapitated it.

The robot sank to its knees, still fumbling with its weapon. The Spartan leapt off and kicked the hostile to the ground, pinning it underneath his boot.

He increased the pressure and his boot breached the robot's outer shell completely, smashing through its chest and rupturing its internal components such that a virtual spray of white gore erupted from its inside.

The Chief grunted.

" _And here I thought we were trying to shake that image of the blood-soaked Demon soldier."_

Dracosa had just about finished off her hostile. She ripped off its left arm and used the mechanical limb to crush the robot's head. Then, she smashed through its chest with her right fist, pulling out thick, squishy cables dripping with white fluids.

The hostile toppled.

Jenkins was firing everywhere, intent on keeping half a dozen hostiles suppressed all on his own. The problem was that he only had sixty rounds to fire before he had to reload, during which the Dragon-girl and the Spartan were forced to engage the rest.

Still, with the two larger hostiles down, the rest of the androids were easily dispatched off. One by one they fell, killed by shotgun blasts, assault rifle fire and close quarters combat.

The Dragon finished the last one by snapping at it with her tail, neatly bisecting it at its waist.

Jenkins audibly winced.

With the area secure, the Chief checked his surroundings. "All clear," he called, before rounding on the disobedient Dragon. "My order was to wait until the signal."

She glared at him, unfazed by his accusation. There was a hint of challenge in her eyes, as if she was daring him to do something about it.

John's preferences bounced right back to Jenkins. Rookie or not, he had simply made a tactical error. Dracosa, however, failed to comply with his orders at a critical time. Worse, the Dragon-girl was tense and ready to pounce. She had the fierce pride of a Helljumper and an even worse attitude when it came to authority.

The Chief had to put her in her place. "Specialist, if you are unable to follow orders, there is no place for you on this mission. I will leave you behind."

John didn't know what did it, but the fire in her eyes seemed to dull somewhat. She glared at him for several long moments, before she looked away.

No verbal affirmative, but at least she seemed to get the message.

To say that this team was far from ideal for a high-risk artefact retrieval was an understatement.

He hoped that Shepard had more success.

~0~

* * *

Lilim stared at the ravaged research camp, which was now surrounded by alien items of the most gruesome sort. Large, tripod-nestled devices from which protruded massive spikes, each of which a corpse had been impaled upon.

And what manner of corpses they were. Naked, covered with cybernetics. Blue, dried-out remains of what had once been human beings.

Lilim briefly closed her eyes with grief for these horrific crimes against humanity, then opened fire.

"Oh god…" exclaimed Kaidan.

"What did the Geth do to them!" Yelled Ashley.

Their eyes were glowing with menacing blue light. The shambling cybernetic corpses made a beeline for the three soldiers, groaning and moaning all the while.

The defiled bodies of the humans whom the Geth had tortured and killed.

Kaidan and Ashley hesitated.

Lilim didn't. She had lived for a very long time and she had seen horrors aplenty. Compared to the evils humans and Liminals committed against each other, this was still nothing.

Her SMG rounds tore through their naked, shambling bodies, tearing asunder limbs and heads. The results of the caseless rounds were particularly gruesome, even among UNSC weaponry.

The fight lasted mere seconds. It ended with Lilim knocking one of the monstrosities to the ground and crushing its head underneath her boot.

The violence stopped as soon as it started. Silence pressed down on the battlefield like a smothering cloak, after which Kaidan called her name.

Lilim didn't respond. She stared at the ruined corpses, animated by an alien power, feeling more powerless than she had ever felt before. Neither Kaidan nor Ashley truly understood the ramifications, understood why this pained her so much.

Of course, she had heard all about the true nature of the Halo threat. What had truly ended all life in the galaxy when the Ark was found. Neither the Biotic nor the Marine knew that. They, like all non-essential personnel, only knew Halo as an enormous Forerunner installation, meant to preserve life and data.

"We should seriously consider evacuating this planet," muttered the Elder Devil.

"Ma'am," replied Kaidan, "To be fair, I don't think the situation can get much worse."

As if on cue, another squad of Geth troopers stepped into view, including one which easily towered several feet above the rest.

Ashley Williams gaped at the incoming reinforcements, while Shepard turned to look at the Staff Lieutenant. "Most regrettably. I shall put you on toilet duty for the rest of the week."

~0~

* * *

The Master Chief had his sniper rifle out, just in case the squad would run into something unpleasant again.

Unpleasant, as it turned out, was somewhat of an understatement for what he next found.

"Holy shit! You see that thing!"

" _The Corporal about sums it up,"_ remarked Cortana. " _Do you have a plan to kill that too?"_

"No," he softly replied.

"Master Chief!" Called Jenkins. "Are you going to kill that, too?"

"No!" He loudly replied. "Stay focused!"

A massive alien structure stood in the far distance, covered with arcs of crimson lightning. It dominated the landscape with its imposing presence. It even gave the Spartan the same vibes as a hovering Covenant Assault Carrier in terms of impending disaster.

Said impending disaster really hit home when the thing started moving."

A low growl escaped Dracosa's throat and she seemed to tense up, as if on instinct.

"It's a ship!" Once again, Jenkins ability to state the obvious saved the day. "Is it the Covenant? Look at the size of that thing!"

"It's not Covenant," said the Chief. However, he had no idea what the contact was supposed to be. He knew he had seen it before, on the _Normandy's_ comm room. It was hard to judge from the distance, but Cortana had never let that stop her.

" _Judging by the surrounding trees and structures, the ship is more than a mile long. I'd say it's even bigger than a Covenant CCS-Class Cruiser."_

The unknown vessel lifted off, moving vertically into the sky. For a ship of that size to simply take off like that…there was no way this was merely the technology of "the robotic "Geth". It had to be something else. It had to be Covenant, there was no other way.

That was when the noise hit him. A deep buzzing sound that crept into the roar of the ships ascent, building up in pressure and intensity until it felt like a spike of white-hot metal being driven into the back of the Spartan's head. The sound was so alien, so powerful, that he started to doubt whether it was Covenant tech at all.

He gritted his teeth and pushed past the pain. Jenkins didn't have that same discipline, or perhaps he was more susceptible to the noise. He was forced to his feet, groaning and trembling.

Then, as sudden it started, the noise subsided and everything returned to normal.

More or less.

"Team, sound off," ordered the Chief.

The Dragon-girl snorted and dragged her tail across the ground, gauging a deep trail into the sand.

John supposed that meant she was alright.

"I'm fine," mumbled Jenkins. "I'm green… "

Good enough for him.

The three of them pressed on, eliminating more Geth on their way towards the target. Eventually, they came across the remains of Geth troopers they hadn't yet killed.

"Ehm…Chief?" Said Jenkins. "When did you kill _these_ guys?"

"Someone else has been through here," he replied.

A burst of static came through his comm, shortly followed by Saren's voice. " _Spartan, I have eyes on the Beacon. The Geth rigged its surroundings with bombs. You must hurry. Take the cargo train."_

As if accentuating Saren's report, the clatter of automatic weapon's fire echoed through the hills.

" _Analysing sound patterns. Database comparison found; it's-"_

"Standard issue SMG," replied the Chief. "I know. Team, move out."

"Chief!" Called Jenkins. "You hear that, sir?"

He did. "That's why we're moving, Corporal. Specialist, take point."

As they came closer to their goal, the resistance that the robotic Geth put up became fiercer and fiercer. But between a violent and destructive Dragon, a trigger-happy Marine and a Spartan, the Geth might as well have been a group of Grunts for all the good it did. They quickly reached catwalk above the cargo train platform and the Master Chief had Victorias clear the way. Prone to insubordination or not, she was the closest he had to a Spartan on his team.

Fast, mobile and absolutely brutal in melee range. She tore through the Geth's ranks without breaking a sweat, augmenting her strikes and swipes with the drumming of pumping buckshot. She disposed of the last Geth by punching it to the ground, then literally ripping its head off as it tried to climb back to its feet.

 _The Predator of Torfan,_ the Chief grimly thought. And then the Covenant called _him_ a Demon. At least he didn't intentionally cover himself with viscera.

At least…he hoped the Specialist wasn't intentionally going for the messiest kills.

"Down there!" Cried Jenkins. "It's the Commander!"

The Chief had already seen her. Below the catwalk, the cargo train was already starting to move. A squad of Geth soldiers were positioning themselves on the far end, including one of the big ones.

"Jump!" Barked the Chief. Dracosa and Jenkins both leapt at the same time, vacating the catwalk just as the train picked up speed.

But Draco had wings and Jenkins didn't. She landed on all fours and instantly moved for cover, while Jenkins rolled helplessly across the ground, firing his rifle as he did.

The Master Chief wordlessly shook his head. "Cortana, designate targets."

" _On it."_

He jumped in the air and immediately aimed down the sights of his sniper rifle. Time seemed to slow down as he exhaled quietly and held his breath. The several Geth soldiers were outlined in a bright yellow frame, making things easier for the Master Chief as he aligned the dot with the first hostile's head and pulled the trigger, sending a deadly 14.5X114mm APFSDS round downrange.

He panned the rifle to the right and pulled the trigger. The rifle kicked against his shoulder and another Geth fell. The rifle barked twice more and another pair fell.

He hit the decks of the cargo train, rolled with his momentum and aimed down the scope again, taking down the larger Geth.

The sniper rounds punched a massive hole through its body and the android toppled, signalling the end of the brief firefight.

It was silent for several moments, before Jenkins remarked, "That was the coolest thing ever. Of all time."

" _Not their fault. They have flashlights for heads."_

Shepard walked up to the Spartan and scowled. "Such a show-off. We could have taken them."

" _See? She thinks it's a race too. Now she knows we're going to win."_

The Chief ignored her. "Commander Shepard, Saren informed us that the Geth are placing bombs around the Beacon. We need to stop them."

Her black eyes widened at that remark, but she quickly regained her composure. "That is unfortunate. I assume you have a daring plan to stop them?"

What was with everybody assuming he planned for situations like these? Cortana was the planner; he only came up with solutions on the fly.

"I figured I'd shoot them. See if that works."

The Commander flashed him another smile. "Ever the strategist."

John checked how much ammo he had left for his rifle; forty rounds. Good enough for opening skirmish.

He spotted another woman standing behind the Elder Devil; the same one he had seen on the emergency broadcast on the _Normandy_. She had survived the Geth onslaught? Commendable.

If only she'd stop staring at him like that.

By the time they reached the terminal on the other side of the monorail, it became clear that the Geth were mobilizing everything they had on-site. They were greeted by the largest reception party thus far, easily three dozen of them.

" _You, me, rushing to kill an overwhelming enemy offensive before they can detonate their bomb…feels nostalgic, doesn't it?"_

"That's one way of putting it," the Spartan replied as he emptied his assault rifle into a pair of Geth troopers. Shepard gave the Staff Lieutenant, apparently trained in electronics, to start disabling the bombs.

" _You should know that I've spotted Saren in your HUD half a minute ago."_

The Chief hardly felt surprised. He sidestepped a rushing Geth unit, emptied his sidearm on full-auto and crushed the robot's chest with a series of lightning-fast jabs. "So where is he?"

" _Advancing. He was only visible for point zero three seconds. I believe you were kicking something when I spotted him. Still, he's coming our way. Guess what? We still win."_

The Spartan stepped in front of Jenkins, who was about to get outflanked by a pair of hostiles. Fire splashed across his shields, but they held steady He reloaded and put the two androids down. "Why are you assuming Shepard thinks this is a race too?"

" _She's a Devil!"_

"So?"

" _Elder Devils act like they're above it all, and they might be, but Shepard still acts like a Greater one at times. She's still fighting on the frontlines for crying out loud!"_

The Chief, missing the connection between fighting on the frontlines and regarding a special operations mission as a race between friendly units, merely loaded his pistol again.

Between the six of them, the Geth forces simply couldn't stop them. Even with another wave of the cybernetic husks charging their way, the UNSC strike force managed to defuse all bombs and bring their full focus to bear on getting to that Beacon.

The Master Chief saw the last wave of husks charging them, knew what psychological effect reanimated corpses of fallen victims had on soldiers and prioritized them. He darted across his cover and struck the first across the head with the butt of his pistol.

Its sickly blue cranium practically exploded with the force of the impact, even though such an attack shouldn't have taken off its head like that. Had the turning process somehow weakened their skeletal structure? Cybernetics that weakened its muscles?

He supposed it didn't matter, though it did make things easier. His left leg snapped out and caught one of the Husks dead centre in its chest. The corpse smashed against one of the crates in the spaceport -eight meters away.

Within the span of two seconds, the Spartan had eliminated the lumbering corpses, coating the ground with patches of blue and black.

"Holy shit!" Cried the Marine.

"Awesome, ain't it?" Grinned Jenkins.

The Master Chief spotted the tall, glowing monolith standing in the centre of the platform. It sure didn't look like it had been built by the locals.

" _That looks Beacon-y,"_ quipped Cortana. " _Mission accomplished."_

The Chief turned around and faced the rest of the team, which gathered next to him on the platform. His HUD identified the surviving Marine as a Gunnery Chief. It wasn't a rank he was familiar with, but he supposed Citadel Theatre soldiers worked with different ranking systems.

"Jenkins, Alenko, take the Gunnery Chief and secure the perimeter."

The three snapped to attention and moved back towards the cargo area, making sure that they weren't being lured into an ambush by the Geth.

That decision tuned out not to be the smartest one he had made in his career.

With heavy, thundering footsteps, a massive Geth stepped into view to their left flank. It towered above even the other hulking forms they had encountered. Clad in thick, milky-white plates and armed with a huge alien weapon, it looked like it was ready to put up one hell of a fight.

Everything happened at the same time. Shepard and the Chief opened up on the massive Geth, while the Dragon-girl moved to engage it in close quarters.

"No, stay back!" The Chief snapped, but it was too late. The Liminal slammed into the Geth with enough force to send it staggering backwards towards the Beacon, which started pulsing in a radiant, green glow.

The Spartan rushed forwards as well, unslinging his shotgun and firing away at the giant. Specialist Victorias dug her gauntlets deep into its neck and ripped its head off, but that didn't stop it.

Meanwhile, the Beacon's strange pulsating force grew stronger.

The Master Chief swore under his breath even as Cortana scanned the massive Geth form and highlighted its weak points.

There was one glowing section in its legs, which the Spartan wasted no time in attacking. He slammed his armoured forearm into the hulking giant's joints with enough force to send a Hunter staggering. It lost its balance and both the Dragon as the Geth slammed to the ground. The platform shook under the impact.

Specialist Victorias sat upright atop the fallen Geth and shook her head, likely to stave off the shock of the sudden impact.

John, realizing that she wasn't injured, allowed himself to feel a moment of relief. He had seen too many soldiers die during the war, too many men and women throw their lives away for victories that meant too little in the long run.

He was about to chide the young woman again when the Beacon seemed to explode with activity.

~0~

* * *

Lilim saw the Geth go down, _felt_ the Beacon respond to the creatures gathered around it. With a pulse of sickening green light, a field of energy exploded outwards. Dracosa, sitting the closest to the Beacon, was helpless as strange energy enveloped her and dragged her closer to the piece of alien technology.

She gave a shout of alarm and Shepard rushed towards her, but it was with a stab of bitterness that she realized she would never make it in time.

The Master Chief was equally as far away as she was, but he was so much faster. He was like lightning, straying from the thunder. In the time it took the Commander's heart to contract, the Spartan took several larges strides and wrapped his arms around Draco's slender waist, pulling her free with his immense strength.

Free of the Beacon's strange grasp, the Specialist sailed through the air and landed flat a safe distance behind.

But even with his enormous strength, the Master Chief could not break free himself, and then it was him who was at the mercy of the Beacon. It lifted him in the air, held him there for reasons nobody could know.

Lilim's cry of protest surprised even her. She saw Draco take a step towards the Spartan and grabbed the Dragon's arm. She held no illusions that she could have stopped the girl. The gesture served only to get her attention, to get her to see reason.

"You mustn't touch him. It is too dangerous!"

Torturously, Lilim was helpless to watch the Spartan start to tremble under the effects of whatever it was that the Beacon did to him, like he was stuck in some sort of waking nightmare. Then, without any warning, the Beacon violently exploded, knocking every to the ground and flinging the Spartan backwards.

Lilim surged towards the fallen soldier, trying to check him for any signs of life. That damnable power armour was in her way -there was no way of telling if he was hurt, or wounded, or…or…

Focused on the human as she was, she completely failed to notice the smoking ruin of what once the Prothean Beacon.

~0~

* * *

 **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: COLONIES: ELYSIUM**

 _Elysium is humanity's oldest colony in the Skyllian Verge. Strategically placed at the nexus of several primary and secondary mass relays, the colony quickly became a major population centre. Due to the fact half of Elysium's population exists out of Liminal species, diplomacy and cultural exchange programs are of great importance_

 _The UNSC was still in the process of turning Elysium into a fortress-world to accommodate evacuated industrial and military installations when the Batarian Hegemony declared war and assaulted the planet. Years after the assault was fought off, the process of militarizing Elysium is well underway._

 _Rich in resources and well defended, Elysium is the ultimate mixed signal to the gangs and pirate organizations in the Terminus Systems. It is extremely well-defended, with multiple Orbital Defence Platforms in orbit and 14 more planned for construction. In case of a large-scale invasion, half of Elysium's population will jump at the call, marshalling an army of millions within the hour._

 _The Office of Naval Intelligence understands they have the Batarian Hegemony to thank for this incredible readiness, but this remains classified._

~0~

* * *

 **AN:** _I'm still struggling to get my stuff back together, but seeing as writing is my perfect stress relief...well, I hope I can keep the updates relatively regular._


	12. 2,1: Daily life with conspiracy theories

~0~

* * *

It drifted through the cold vacuum of space, sleek and deadly. The eldritch warship known only as The Sovereign. Though it travelled through the Terminus Systems, where only the outcasts and filth of galactic civilization could be found, nobody ever dared to attack it. Organics naturally feared it, their primitive instincts flaring up in alarm at its very nature, which was incomprehensible as it was _wrong._

Inside of the warship sat General Desolas Arterius, who was patiently trying to make sense of the gift of the Beacon. To him, a born soldier and natural strategist, it was only a matter of time before the secrets unfolded themselves, before he would come to understood where next to bring his considerable forces to bear.

It was only when the human entered the room that Desolas allowed himself to be distracted from his endless stratagems and plans. He sniffed, taking in the faint scent of blood and chemicals.

 _Promestein._

"Desolas," she spoke.

"Doctor," growled the Turian. "How went your research?"

"Most successfully," replied the woman. Her dark, red eyes were focused on the Turian and the little, self-indulgent smile on her face never faded. "But still too crude, I fear. I'm only able increase Noveria's output by twenty-five percent."

To Desolas, the human was revolting. She called herself a scientist and clothed herself the part, but his gut told him that she was far more than that. Certainly, she was essential to obtaining the pieces of his grand stratagem, but he couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't completely loyal to the cause.

It did not help that he was unable to fully understand her.

"Twenty-five is acceptable. That places the completion of the third army at…three weeks from now. "

"Of course, there is still the issue of Eden Prime. The vessel that touched down? It's human. The UNSC _Normandy_."

The United Nations Space Command…the warmongering humans and their natural warbeasts. This was a setback. "If the UNSC gets herself involved, we need to speed up the Chimera Project. We shall redirect our resources to the other research facilities."

"Leaving only the problem of the UNSC having saved the colony and utilizing the Beacon."

Desolas felt a tremor run through the ship, soon followed by an unnatural sensation of _hatred_ and _rage._ A desire for violence that was not his own took control over him and he snarled, throwing the table at his side aside. He rounded on the human. "Who?" He demanded.

The amused smirk hadn't faded one bit. "A human male. A warrior, every bit as problematic as your younger brother."

The General growled. "Then we must _destroy_ this warrior."

~0~

* * *

 **12:39 Hours, January 23th, 2549 (Military Calendar) / UNSC** _ **Normandy SR-1**_

 _The voices of the dead whispered in his ears. Their rotten corpses littered the hill, as far as the eye could see. The Flesh that Hated, in leagues with the mechanical horrors. Tens of thousands of discarded weapons had been scattered across the hill as well, one for every million that had died. ._

 _They were coming for him now -_ who?- _and there was no escaping them. There had never been any escape for his kind. Bred for the battlefield, bred for the slaughter -_ why didn't he fight back?- _yet_ _every last one of them would fall._

 _Death lay before him, stretching out without a limit. Pulsating, rotten flesh merged with mechanical claws and limbs. It raised its massive head, revealing the full scale of the mechanical horror._

Cybernetics? John knew something was wrong. He couldn't focus, couldn't think.

 _The robotic terror, the synthetic killer, spread its massive tentacles across the battlefield. Its gaping maw split open across several lines and a roaring laughter echoed across the hill._

 _Except it wasn't laughter. It was a droning, roaring horn that chilled him to his core. This insatiable creature, this unstoppable abomination, was a Reaper and it would be his end._

It wasn't real, of course. He realized this when his consciousness began climbing its way to the surface. Slowly, drowsily, he began to take notice of the world around him. Light slowly began to stream into his vision when he blinked, taking the risk to open his eyes.

By the time he fully woke up, he couldn't even remember the details.

His blurry vision came into view slowly. The only thing he could see was the interior of his visor, which had polarized in response to someone shining a bright light in his eyes.

Amber status lights blinked on. He felt the familiar weight of his MJOLNIR armour surrounding him.

The memories came back to him in flashes. The Prothean Beacon, the Dragon-girl straying too close and getting drawn in by its sudden force.

His own actions, pulling her out and getting drawn in himself…and it exploding in his face.

The next time someone wanted him to retrieve an ancient alien artefact, he'd-

"Ah, consciousness. Good. Welcome back.".

"Cortana?" He whispered, his throat hoarse.

A faint light flickered on to his left. "Over here."

The Master Chief turned on his side. He was in a medical bay, Bio-monitors pulsed along one wall, displaying his vital signs. The holographic projection pad stood next to his bed, displaying Cortana's tiny figure, strobing with symbolic logic code.

"Doctor?" Someone said. It was the soft voice of a woman, but not one that he had ever heard before.

The Chief slowly got up, shaking off the fuzziness in his head. He wasn't alone; doctor Chakwas was sitting in a chair, several feet away. Much to his surprise, Dracosa sat on the ground in the corner, with her arms wrapped around her chest.

"Ah, good," said Chakwas. "You're awake. Do stay calm now. How are you feeling?"

"I'm green, ma'am," he said. "What happened to the Beacon?"

Cortana placed her hands on her hips. "Destroyed. Nothing we could salvage."

Dracosa lowered her head. "I messed up," she muttered. Her voice sounded young, younger than he would have expected from such an aggressive-minded, destructive soldier.

The Chief realized that it had been her talking before. He contemplated her statement. Yes, she had jumped the gun. She had broken the rules of engagement he had set and her eagerness to engage the enemy had put her closer to the Beacon than necessary.

On the other hand, it might have responded to a proximity alert, in which case the Geth unit was to blame.

No, the Chief couldn't really blame Draco for what had happened. "You were careless, but that's not what cost us the mission."

She still visibly flinched at his words.

Cortana sounded impatient when she next spoke. "Speaking about careless; for a race of artificial intelligences, the Geth were rather stupid, placing their largest unit _that_ close to the Beacon. Its detonation might well be their fault, for all we know." She paused. "But since it's exploded into a thousand little pieces, we won't find out any time soon."

"Side-effects of its explosion?" Asked the Spartan. His MJOLNIR could block most forms of radiation, but he wasn't going to test his luck when it came to alien artefacts.

"Physically, you're fine. .You didn't sustain injuries on Eden Prime." replied Chakwas. "I can't imagine why the UNSC would ship you out so soon after the Battle of the Ark, but that is a different issue altogether. I did detect some unusual brain activity, abnormal beta waves. "

The door to the medical bay opened and Captain Anderson entered. Both the Chief as Draco jumped to their feet and saluted.

Anderson threw a glare at the Dragon, who seemed to shrink under his gaze. "You and I will discuss your behaviour on the battlefield another time, Specialist. Dismissed."

The young woman saluted again and hastily left the medical bay, much to Chakwas's apparent disapproval.

"I do wonder what environment _stimulated_ such behaviour," she said with a deadpan voice.

"Not now, doctor. Master Chief, what's your status?"

"One hundred percent, sir."

"Good to hear. You and I need to talk, Saren included. In private."

"Of course sir," Chakwas said, understanding the message immediately. She turned to leave the medical bay.

As the doctor left, the Turian entered.

The Chief tensed up, getting ready for a fight. He still didn't know what Saren's role in all this was. He knew he should trust the Spectre, yet his instinct screamed at him not to let his guard down.

As soon as the alien closed the doors behind him, Anderson spoke up. "I won't lie to you, Master Chief. We're in a tight spot. The Beacon ended up destroyed and…well…we have reason to believe Desolas Arterius is involved."

The Chief didn't follow. "Desolas Arterius, sir?"

Saren scoffed. "My older brother, General Arterius. I've been tracking him for a long time, Spartan. With a discovery like a Beacon involved, he is implicated. I am sure of it."

"Desolas Arterius is a Turian General, Chief," said Cortana. "He was involved in the First Contact conflict and numerous other incidents. Black ops, special forces, classified through and through. He's basically the Turian Colonel Ackerson. He is _the_ highest military authority, even though few people realize it."

"So, he's that bad?"

Saren cast a disapproving look at Cortana. "As the AI says, Desolas is involved in every black operation from Shanxi to Palaven. He is not a Spectre, no, but that makes him even worse. He has considerably more assets to use. Practically limitless."

"How do you know he's involved?" Asked the Chief.

"I know my own blood, Spartan. I've been tracking him for more than a decade now. Few know it, but Desolas is part of a top-secret pro-Turian organization, called the Aestus Initiative-"

The Chief didn't miss how the symbols on Cortana's holographic body shifted at that name.

"-which supported Fleet Commander Tarankus and General Levitcus on Shanxi for Turian gain. It would surprise me if he _wasn't_ involved on Eden Prime."

Anderson chimed in. "Saren filled me in. Several Spectres suspect Desolas pressured the Turian Councillor into allowing them to go to war at Shanxi, Master Chief. That General is bad news, especially if he wants to use that information to better his own group."

"One General with enough power to pressure a Citadel Councillor sounds like bad news alright," said Cortana. "I've been trying to access his files, but they're surprisingly tough to crack. I can't get to them." She paused to let that sink in. " _I_ can't get them. I hope you boys realize how much black ink has to be involved for that to happen."

"But we can't prove a thing," insisted Anderson. "Not yet. We need the Councillor for that."

"If Sparatus is willing to testify, we can grab Desolas by his quills," said Saren. "But only _if_. We lack evidence and the Initiative enjoys a lot of power. An unflattering comparison to your Office of Naval Intelligence can be made. If revealing Desolas' schemes to the Citadel requires Sparatus's testimony and only his, I doubt he will work with us. He has too much to lose."

"But we have to try!" Said Anderson. "If Desolas is working with the Geth, he has gone rogue! Even the Initiative won't look out for him then!"

Saren snorted. "You'd be surprised…for all we know, they could be involved as well. And _if_ they are involved, Sparatus can expect himself a surprise visit soon."

"An assassination?" Said the Chief.

"And a new Councillor, one who _won't_ be so resilient to the Initiative's influence."

Cortana crossed her arms. "So let me get this straight. A shady organization is putting pressure on the Turian Councillor to keep him quiet about General Desolas's activities, to the point that they will dismiss a Geth assault on Eden Prime, and they will assassinate him when he squeals?"

"And here I was, wondering why they called you _smart_ AI's…"

The Master Chief was about to confront the Spectre about that remark when he realized someone was missing. "Where is Commander Shepard?"

A dark look crossed Saren's face, but Anderson merely sighed. "The Commander is…busy. The Council has assigned a different Spectre to directly oversee her coming missions. The two of them need to discuss matters, Besides that, you don't live for two centuries without building up some contacts. She thinks her comrades might provide some information about the Initiative."

"A foolish endeavour. We must consider their true purpose for the attack; the Beacon." Saren paused, then added in a somewhat amused tone, "The one that was destroyed as a consequence of your actions."

Yes, the Chief realized. He _really_ didn't like Saren.

"You were the last one to see it," Anderson said, seemingly oblivious to the Spectre's snide comment. "Did you see anything important? Anything that Desolas might be after?"

The Master Chief hesitated. Technically, he _had_ seen something. "When the Beacon was activated, it…might have planted images into my mind."

Saying it out loud felt so much worse.

Cortana knew what he was thinking. "The rapid eye movements don't lie, Chief. It wouldn't be the first time something communicated via mental images."

"Mental images?" An unwelcome element crept into Saren's voice. "Are we talking about hallucinations?"

"Dreams, more specifically," Cortana bit back. "Back on Halo, the Flood displayed an ability to communicate via telepathy. This was confirmed on the Ark. I wouldn't put it above an ancient alien race to be able to convey a message directly via brain waves, burning a pattern into the recipient's neurons."

"…a vison?" Saren didn't sound remotely convinced.

But Anderson seemed more supportive than the Spectre. "What did you see?" He urged. "It could be useful."

John frowned. He didn't know what he saw…a nightmarish combination of flesh and metal, perhaps. "People dying…screams. Flesh, intertwined with metal."

"I am _sure_ that will convince the Council of Desolas's involvement," Said Saren. "Can you imagine it? The Initiative brought low by a _vision."_ He clicked his mandibles in disapproval, or even scorn. "No. I say we focus on getting Sparatus on our side."

'We will report _everything_ to the Council. If we want to bring Desolas to justice, we _need_ them on board. If this Initiative is involved, and they're as bad as you say, we need _all_ the help we can get. I've already contacted Ambassador Akuma and Emissary Udina. They will want to see us as soon as we reach the Citadel."

"I think you're forgetting something, Anderson," remarked Saren.

The Captain threw him a dirty look.

"Sir?" Said the Master Chief.

"You're not…officially serving on the _Normandy_ anymore, Chief. The Office of Naval Intelligence stepped in. They've reassigned you to a different vessel."

"Reassigned sir? Again?" The Spartan wasn't sure how to feel about that. "With respect to the Office's orders, isn't it wiser for me to stay on this mission?"

Anderson obviously didn't look comfortable. "The moment Saren and I informed the UNSC of the possibility of the Initiative being involved, they planned for the worst. Apparently, Saren isn't the only one who tracked their movements and activities. You'll receive new mission parameters at the Citadel."

The Spartan turned towards Cortana. "New mission parameters?"

"I know. They're being lovingly vague again." Via an encrypted channel only the Chief could hear, Cortana added, " _But I'm one step ahead of their little games. Don't worry about a thing; you'll be in good hands on the Citadel."_

She had that tone again. That Cortana-tone. That tone she would use whenever she had some strange scheme to work with. Teleportation grids, drawing power from his suit's reactor, overloading engines, everything was planned with her scheming-tone.

The Chief didn't like it when Cortana used that tone.

"I see the UNSC has done all it can to better our odds," Saren sarcastically remarked. "We should be arriving at the Citadel any moment now."

And with that, the Turian Spectre turned around and left the medical bay, leaving the Master Chief alone with Anderson and Cortana.

"We should be docking in half an hour. I am not technically your Captain anymore Chief, but if you could indulge me?"

The Spartan nodded. "Sir."

Anderson looked around and then stepped closer. "Saren showed me those files on the Aestus Initiative. Whether you trust him or not is irrelevant; those Turians means business. When Saren compared them to the Office of Naval Intelligence, he wasn't exaggerating. He's been after his brother for years, as a Spectre, yet he hasn't found a way to nail him yet. You watch your back, Chief. If we push this, they'll be after you as well."

The Spartan felt a hint of eagerness at hearing that. An alien organization that wanted to push their own agenda specifically at humanity's expense? If this was true, they were already responsible for tens of thousands of needless casualties. That was enough to make an enemy out of any soldier. "Sir. I'll stop at nothing to take them down, sir."

Anderson smiled somewhat bitterly. "I don't doubt you will, Chief. Look after him, Cortana."

The AI popped up from a different terminal. "He's in good hands, Captain."

The Captain nodded, before turning around and taking his leave.

When he was gone, the Chief spoke his mind. "The Aestus Initiative…a pro-Turian elite organization?"

"More like a pro-Turian anti-human elite conspiracy. Few know they even exist, Chief. If this Desolas is responsible for Shanxi as well as Eden Prime-"

"He's a threat to all of humanity."

"-I was going to say that he must have had an insane amount of resources, but sure, that too."

The Chief didn't like this. Their sole evidence that this Initiative was even remotely involved depended on the word of the Turian Councillor, who had every reason to fear an assassination. He wouldn't testify that he had been pressured unless he was completely assured there wouldn't be retribution.

Assurance which could not be granted.

"Nevertheless, moping around won't help. We'll just have to wait. _If_ this results in an assassination attempt on the Turian Councillor's life, we'll know for sure who the enemy is."

He supposed she was right. "I'm going to the bridge."

Cortana smiled. "Do that. It's an amazing sight. I'll stick around in the _Normandy's_ systems, making final checks and copies of the data."

The Chief was somewhat surprised at that. "What for?"

"A girl's gotta have secrets, Chief. Now hop along. If you've ever wanted to see a _good_ ancient alien artefact, you should see the Citadel."

John was a bit suspicious at how she brushed his inquiries off, but he supposed she was right. He left the medical bay and made his way to the cockpit, where Shepard and Gunnery Chief Williams were looming behind Joker and Alenko.

It seemed that the latter two were having an argument

Again.

"I'm just saying, it would be horrendously expensive, not to mention unwieldy. How is the _Normandy_ supposed to remain in stealthy when she boasts that firepower?"

"We'll break stealth nonetheless when we attack! And when I attack, I want to do so with the firepower to rival a Turian Dreadnaught."

"It doesn't matter what you want, you can't mount a MAC on the _Normandy!"_

"Says you."

The two remained arguing as the Frigate drifted towards the Mass Relay. They didn't stop, even as a flash of the brightest blue washed across the screen and the Relay propelled them across the galaxy again. They ended up inside a Nebula of some sorts, if the large, purple cloud that had replaced the stars was anything to go by.

In the centre of that cloud lay the Citadel, the massive alien space station the Spartan had heard so much about. It was nothing compared to monstrosities like High Charity or the Halo Installations, but it was still impressive in its own way. It lacked the ominous atmosphere, instead exuding something soothing.

It looked like a ring with five massive protruding arms mounted on it, like a fivefold beak. The arms were fully covered with lines of light. Was the entire Citadel populated? If so, how could it sustain that population?

The Citadel races were lucky that the Covenant hadn't found the Citadel during their incursions.

"Look!" Said Williams. "Look at the size of that ship!"

The Chief followed her gaze and saw the most unwieldy, awkward ship he had ever seen. Large, bulky, with a massive opening in the centre that looked like it absolutely zero purposes. Massive, tower-like structures stuck out of the top, bottom and sides, making it look like a children's cartoon of a star.

But yes, he supposed it was big.

"The _Destiny Ascension,_ " Said Alenko. "The flagship if the Citadel Fleet."

The biggest target and easiest target the Chief could find in the fleet, the Citadel itself notwithstanding.

"Size isn't everything," muttered Joker.

"Why so touchy, Joker?" Said Williams.

"Just sayin'. You need firepower too."

John had read up on Citadel mass accelerator design. Like the UNSC's MACs, it ran across the entirety of a given ship's length. Dreadnaughts like this _Destiny Ascension_ were supposed to be the largest vessels in Citadel space precisely because of that reason.

Where on this disaster of a design did the _Ascension_ carry its guns?

"Are you kidding?" Countered Williams. "Look at that monster! It could rip through a Destroyer's hull in seconds!"

"And yet its Freudian design could get wrecked by a single MAC," quipped Joker.

The Chief didn't think a MAC was the biggest threat to this warship. If it was supposed to use its massive firepower against Covenant ships, its profile would render it utterly defenceless against Plasma Torpedoes or Energy Projectors.

He hoped that such a confrontation would never happen.

" _Stand by for clearance, UNSC_ Normandy. _Stand by…clearance granted. You may begin your approach. Transferring you to a UNSC operator."_

"Roger, Citadel control," replied Joker. _"Normandy_ out."

It didn't take long for the UNSC operator to contact them. "Normandy _, this is UNSC tower. Please proceed to dock four-two-two. Sierra One-One-Seven is to be escorted to dock four-two-three, where ONI representatives will escort him to a new location."_

"Roger, UNSC control, I'll uh…tell him." Joker turned his chair around and looked at the Chief. "Hey, Master Chief? I've got a message for you-"

"I heard them," the Chief curtly replied, before taking his leave."

Anderson's words still echoed through his mind.

 _You watch your back, Chief. If we push this, they'll be after you as well._

The Master Chief flexed his shoulders as he rode the elevator down. The Aestus Initiative had better be ready for one hell of a fight.

~0~

* * *

 **Serpent Nebula**

 **Citadel**

 **Lower Wards**

Patience was an artificial virtue to her. She wasn't a naturally-patient individual, yet her assignments often demanded a very careful approach. And this one wasn't any different. In fact, patience could very well be considered the deciding factor. One slip-up and this entire operation would be compromised..

She crept along the lower wall of the exterior of the Wards, deliberately not looking down into the cavernous chasm below her, which spelled a _very_ long way down for any individual unlucky enough to lose their footing.

Flexing her eight thin legs, she perfectly evened out her balance across the smooth, alien metal.

She was focused on the task at hand, and prospect of danger did nothing to faze her. This day would go into history as the turning point in the Black Fang's ancient campaign.

The day humanity's greatest hero would die.

It would cause the greatest uproar the United Nations Space Command had ever known. For a member of her organization to kill their so-called staunchest protector…her people would finally get the recognition they had been fighting for all these years.

When she was absolutely certain that she was in the position that intel had suggested, she contacted the other insurgents. "Rachnera in position."

The response came a heartbeat later. " _Nephila in position."_

" _Karsten in position. Excellent work. Start rigging the scene. Remember; they want the target alive, if possible."_

Rachnera smirked. Capturing one little human, legendary soldier or no, would be no problem for her. "Of course. Once we have everything in place, there will be no escape for him."

" _It's a mere human."_

She agreed. "A man, even."

" _Don't get carried away, girl. There is nothing "mere" about that man. He can and will brutalize you in close quarters. Immobilize him as fast as possible."_

Rachnera rolled her upper two eyes in frustration. "Yes, yes. There are three of us and one of him. It will all be over soon."

" _Yeah. It's one human, Karst. How hard can it be?"_

~0~

* * *

 **Citadel**

 **Dock 423**

The Master Chief stepped onto the deck that had been closed off by ONI agents. They could be recognized by their somewhat inconspicuous outfits and less-inconspicuous weaponry.

Still, the agents saluted upon seeing him.

"Master Chief Sierra One-One-Seven," he said, handing them over his credentials, which they checked over twice before actually allowing him past.

The Spartan was quickly joined in by at least four armed soldiers, apparently serving as an escort. They guided him towards a building all the way at the rear of the docks, which had been thoroughly occupied by the UNSC's Intelligence branch.

They brought him to what had to be a control tower, fully vacated. The walls were white and covered with screens, but the one thing that really stood out was the holoprojector in the centre of the room.

No sooner did the ONI agents leave him on his own, or the projector flared to life, projecting the form of a woman he hadn't seen in _months_.

She wore a simple skirt and lab coat, and nothing to identify her to the common observer, but the Chief instantly recognized her.

"Doctor Halsey."

" _Hello again, John,"_ she spoke, smiling at him.

The Chief brushed off his agitation at her casual use of his given name. She had always referred to the Spartans by their names -never by their rank or serial number.

" _It is good to see you again. I wish we could have met face to face, but given the supposed unsafe nature of the Citadel, the UNSC didn't think it wise for me to visit in person."_

"Did you read the mission report, ma'am?"

" _I did. A troublesome development, the appearance of the Geth. And Desolas Arterius…a name I am not unfamiliar with."_

He supposed that, if there was one person who knew what was really going on, it was her. "Ma'am, permission to speak freely?"

She smiled again. " _Of course, John. You know you don't need to ask my permission to speak your mind."_

"The Prothean Beacon. That Spectre -Saren Arterius- said Desolas wanted it. That he was willing to attack the colony for it."

" _Yes?"_

The Chief thought about it for a few moments, trying to find the right words. "The _Normandy's_ CO, Captain Anderson, believed him. About the Turian organization."

" _The Aestus Initiative."_

He frowned. She sounded like she had heard that name many times before. "How do we know for sure they're involved?"

" _You don't trust Saren then? Or Anderson?"_

"I trust the Captain, ma'am."

" _And Saren?"_

The Chief hesitated. "He's an alien. A Spectre. The brother of this General."

" _You didn't answer my question, John."_

"No ma'am. I don't think I do."

" _In my field of work, you can never doubt matters enough. To answer your question, no, we cannot know for certain that Desolas Arterius was involved. Then again, we never known something with absolute certainty, do we?"_

The Chief didn't agree, but he kept that to himself. "No ma'am."

Even though she was still a holographic image of the real person, there was no mistaking that twinkle in her eyes when she heard his reply. " _There are patterns. Small signs and clues visible only to those who look hard enough. The Office of Naval Intelligence believes it has enough clues to blame the Aestus Initiative for the attack on Eden Prime. They also believe they have enough arguments to build a case against Desolas."_

John didn't miss the way she used the word "believes". Once might have been a coincidence, but twice? "They believe, ma'am?"

" _I see the feedback from the Prothean Beacon has not dulled your mind in the least. The Initiative is an elusive organization, John. Not unlike the Office. They have enough influence -and reputation- to interfere there where it matters. Blaming them now would only force them to act more carefully."_

The Chief felt a measure of frustration at that. This was worse than fighting a squad of stealth Elites. "Then what should we do, ma'am?"

" _What did Saren suggest?"_

"Councillor Sparatus. Desolas pressured him to allow an attack on Shanxi. If he testifies against the General, the Council can take action."

" _Indeed. You and Saren know this. The Office knows this…and the Initiative knows this."_

The Master Chief was starting to see. "Saren said they would try to stop that. An attempt at Sparatus's life."

 _Or mine,_ he thought. But Halsey didn't need to know that.

" _The Office thinks the same thing."_

"So what do we do now?"

She cocked an eyebrow at that. " _What would you do, John? You have all the clues now."_

The Chief looked at her, unsure about what she meant. Was this a test? At such an important time?

But the shakedown run had been a test too.

Spectrehood.

Why did the UNSC think it was important for him to see doctor Halsey again? What was really going on here? "If the Initiative is innocent, they have nothing to lose. If they are guilty, they will try to hide it."

" _And?"_

"And…" He was starting to see. They will hide it by killing the Councillor. Then they will cover that up, too."

Halsey crossed her arms. " _How do you_ win _, Master Chief?"_

"Ma'am. There is a brief window of opportunity to protect Sparatus. If we foil the attempt on his life, we will retain a key witness and reveal Desolas' involvement. "

" _An excellent analysis. You should proceed with caution, John. No doubt Saren has informed you about the UNSC's wish to get our own Spectre. But not everybody wants to see_ you _become a Spectre."_

"Is that why you wanted to speak to me, ma'am?" Asked the Chief. "To warn me?"

Again, she smiled, but this time was different. It was the same sort of smirk that he had often seen on Cortana's face. If he didn't know better, he would have called it a mischievous smile. " _Not exactly. I want you to know that, if you do become a Spectre, you will need your own ship and your own crew. Those willing to entertain the idea of a Spartan as a Spectre have already supplied those. "_

The Chief wasn't sure what to think about that. "Ma'am?"

" _I suppose I wanted to talk to you about that. You need not worry, John. Decisions are supervised by people. People are supervised by AI's. Everything works out in the end."_

AI's…yes, he supposed that things did work out in the end. "I think I understand."

" _Good. Keep in mind that there are those who wish nothing more than to see your Spectre candidacy compromised. The Citadel has already assigned different Spectre to oversee your activities here on the Citadel."_

"Ma'am. I won't fail my mission."

" _I know. In fact, I am counting on it. Good luck, John."_

After that last puzzling remark, doctor Halsey terminated the link from her end, leaving the Master Chief with a whole lot of information to process.

One thing was clear to him, though. He'd much rather be fighting the Covenant than deal with political drama and conspiracies.

~0~

* * *

Sergeant Major Avery Junior Johnson stepped onto the Citadel for the very first time in his life. Around him, all he could see were signs of beauty. Stark white walls, a beautiful lake and enough trees to warm up even the frostiest Dryad. Humans and Liminals were living together in peace and harmony with aliens, while maintaining a majority presence on the local security forces.

Johnson was not amused. This space station was one massive killzone! The cultural, economic and political hub of galactic civilization? Kept in a cloud that prevented mass effect-regulated FTL from properly working? A single surprise attack could decapitate this entire community's leadership with one swipe! It only took a few shots into the Citadel to end this collaboration between species!

His Turian protégé, Nihlus, walked in after the Sergeant Major. "So Johnson. What do you think?"

"Major structural weaknesses. Too many eggs in one basket. You need to even that out."

"Hmm…an apt tactical analysis. I suppose that is one way of looking at it," Nihlus replied thoughtfully. "But the Citadel Defence Fleet can at least stall any hostile ships long enough for the Citadel's arms to close. Nothing can penetrate the outer shell."

Johnson reached for his cigar and lit it. "That you know of."

"That we know of," Nihlus truthfully admitted. "I must admit, if the Covenant were to assault the Citadel's position…a handful of ships would be enough."

Johnson ponderingly chewed his cigar. "You see my point?"

"Definitely. There is a human saying I am fond of. If you know your enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. A part of being a Spectre is gathering information, beating your enemies before you even start fighting them."

"Sun Tzu," muttered the Sergeant Major. "Damn good book, too…well Nihlus, what next?"

The Turian Spectre crossed his arms. "We wouldn't be here if we didn't have another problem to content with. We shall meet up with the Spectres, as well as the other candidates."

"Sounds good. You gonna tell me who these candidates are?"

"All in due time. But rest assured; you know at least one of them. I suppose you would look up to that person, as you well should."

Someone he looked up to? Wait a shotgun-cocking minute…

Johnson was glaring at the Turian when he said, "The bastards contacted my grandmother?"

Nihlus eyes went wide with shock. "What? No! One other candidate is the Master Chief, humanity's greatest hero! You and him both have great assets, but flaws as well. The Council will have a difficult time deciding on who to promote."

"One other candidate…who's the other then?"

"You'll meet her soon enough, Johnson. And no, it is _not_ your grandmother."

The Sergeant Major shrugged and glanced around again. "Damn shame. That woman could kick ass. Still can. You know, you never mentioned who attacked Eden Prime."

"Can't you reach that conclusion yourself?"

"Nihlus, I know Turians can be slow, so I'll humour you. Some things don't always work. Some things gotta be felt. Others gotta be _seen_. You get me?"

The Turian shook his head. "That is too deep for me, Johnson. I am not as…poetic as you are. Nonetheless, my colleagues informed me that it was the Geth, led by…a certain someone."

Johnson put his cigar away again. "Someone?"

"Someone."

"Sounds serious."

"It is. You should follow me; we need to meet with the other candidates before speaking to the Council."

Johnson understood. From what he had heard, the Geth were already a hostile race to begin with. Problem was, hostiles races didn't simply target mankind for the heck of it, despite common claims pointing to the contrary. No, those robotic bastards must have been eager to get their cords on something good.

If they were led by a someone who had someone united the Geth to get that something good, it meant something bad.

But Avery was eager to meet the Chief again. If that poor SOB was involved in yet another plot against mankind, he'd need all the confidence he could get.

Him, for starters. Rival candidates or not, Avery would always have the Spartan's back.

"We haven't even talked about crewmembers yet," Nihlus suddenly said. "If you do become a Spectre, you will need a ship, as well as a crew."

Johnson stared at the Turian. "Say what?"

~0~

* * *

 **Thirty minutes later**

 **Spectre Offices**

The third candidate was the last one to enter the room. A Turian Spectre entered the offices, closely followed by a tough-looking human male with a dark complexion. His eyes were almost black and nigh-impossible to read in the few moments Lilim had to gaze into them.

The gathered Spectres fell silent as the pair entered. The Spartan, who had been leaning against the wall, took a step forwards.

Suddenly, the Elder Devil could feel tension in the atmosphere as the newcomer and the Master Chief stared at each other. The Spectres had to feel it as well. Lilim's overseer, the Asari Tela Vasir, subtly channelled her Biotic energy while the Spartan's Salarian overseer Jondum Bau reached for his sidearm.

The aura of testosterone-induced competition seemed to intensify, to the point that it became an almost tangible presence. Beads of sweat formed on Tela Vasir's forehead, while the Salarian's hand was slightly trembling.

"Johnson," the Spartan sharply said.

The man, Johnson, huffed. "Chief," he spoke with a cigar in his mouth. A cigar that Lilim could have sworn hadn't been present before. "Damn good to see you again."

There was no hesitation visible on Johnson's face as he extended a hand towards the Spartan.

And the Chief took his hand without hesitation as well, much to Lilim's surprise -and annoyance. Who was this man, this rock-solid yet merely-human man, who had earned such respect from the Spartan?

…why him, and not her?

Moments later, Lilim discarded that thought. It was immature, not becoming of one such as herself. "How pleasant of you to join us," she said, hoping that the unintentional venom in her voice wasn't audible to the lesser-sensitive species. "If you would take your seat?"

"Now that we are complete, we can finally get this out of the way," said Tela Vasir. "We've all read the files, we all know what this is. All in favour of dismissing this as another one of Saren's paranoid conspiracies?"

"Hold on. While this wouldn't be the first time Saren tried to accuse the Initiative, we now have a solid way of getting this out of the way, once and for all," replied the Salarian. "If we prove to Saren that his brother isn't involved with the attack, this headache will stop."

The Turian Spectre crossed his arms, clearly not impressed. "Saren's sharp. One of our best. He wouldn't make this up unless he was absolutely certain."

"Just like the last three times he was absolutely certain," countered Vasir. "I'm starting to think this is about more than simple "justice"."

Nihlus shot her a look. "This time, we have a clear way of testing this. Commander?"

Vasir sighed explosively. "Fine. Shep', go nuts."

Lilim scoffed. The Asari's lack of respect did not help matters. "Very well. What we need is evidence. The centre piece in proving Desolas Arterius -and by extension, the Aestus Initiative- is guilty, is Councillor Sparatus. The Councillor himself will not fold, unless he is convinced of success. The Master Chief's electronics expert has located a possible asset. I propose the following…"

~0~

* * *

 **Twenty minutes later**

 **Lower Wards**

The Master Chief stepped through the door and into Chora's Den, the dance club.

Strip club.

Whatever it was, it immediately bombarded his senses with a painful combination of loud music, bright lights and disgusting odours.

It reminded him of some of the Insurrectionist lairs he had raided during training.

There even was a bar right in front of him, with a sleazy-looking Turian bartender. Sat upon two pedestals raised above the bar were two Asari dancers, scarcely-clad and moving nonstop. They were striking poses that left little to the imagination.

" _Well, good to know that some things never change,"_ said Cortana. " _Now, if I were a dirty ex-cop, where would I be hiding?"_

The Chief snorted. All the way across the galaxy into the heart of a galactic civilization. And this close to the embassies? It was a disgrace.

As soon as he entered, a large alien with a blood-red crest on its head, armoured body and a hump on its back moved towards him. It shot him a strange look, then told him, "If you're looking for Fist, don't bother. He's mine."

And with that, the alien -a Krogan- lumbered off.

" _Wow. And then I thought Elites had deep voices. This guy can give the Arbiter a run for his money!"_

The Spartan ventured deeper into the club. He was, simply put, an unusual sight to these people. They all dropped what they were doing to stare at him, with the possible exception of some of the more hazy-eyed dancers, who seemed too oblivious to notice him.

He thought it would be refreshing to see something different from the constant awestruck and fearful expressions he always saw.

He was wrong. Yes, these people didn't stare like soldiers or civilians would. But that was actually preferable to the stares that Covenant footsoldiers would give him, which this rabble was doing an excellent job imitating.

All in all, it was hardly an improvement.

The Chief spotted another Krogan striding towards him.

" _Let me guess. We shouldn't bother searching for Foot either?"_

The Chief smiled underneath his visor. That was surprisingly appropriate, given the strange situation.

"We don't like your kind in here," growled the alien.

The Spartan found himself completely unable to care. He grabbed the alien by its face and introduced it to the counter of the bar, with enough force to shatter said counter.

The Turian bartender cocked an eyebrow at that display of violence and went straight back to cleaning the crystal cups used for the drinks.

And just like that, the inhabitants of Chora's Den went back to their business. The Chief was surprised at that; it took a special sort of person to think alcohol and blue-skinned strippers were more important than a Spartan bearing down on them.

At least that made his job easier.

" _Analysing facial patterns. I found Harkin. Look back to the left -the other left!- yes. Right there, the hammered mess of a human being draped across the table."_

The Chief saw him, too. Hammered mess wasn't the term he would use to describe Harkin, but it was probably more accurate than what he had in mind. A dead Grunt with its legs blown off looked more graceful than the expelled officer did; he looked like he was barely breathing, his uniform was dirty and torn and his eyes were glazed over.

The man was so completely wasted that he was looking at his glass with one eye and staring at the ground with the other.

That took a special kind of drinking behaviour, the Chief supposed. "You Harkin?"

With a noise somewhat akin to a sneezing Brute, the man shot upright. "Who-? Wha-? Ugh…"

He spotted the Chief.

And then things got strange.

A smile of the most impure sorts formed on the man's face. "Hey there sweetheart…I got to say, that soldier getup looks reeeaaaal good on that bod of yours…"

"Excuse me?" Said the Chief.

" _I ehm… that's…huh …"_

But Harkin was just getting started. "Why don't you sit your sweet little ass down next to little ol' Harkin…have a _drink_ …we'll see where it goes…"

"… _nope. I got nothing. And now I feel dirty, too"_

"I'll pass," the Spartan dryly commented. "I'm looking for a Turian. Garrus Vakarian. You know where I can find him?"

"Sure…" Both the man's eyes settled on the Chief. "But first you got to listen to a little story of mine…sweet-cheeks…"

 _Sweet-cheeks?_ "A story?"

The man reached for his glass and succeeded in swiping it off the table. He brought his empty hand to his face, realized he held naught but empty air and lost his perverted grin. "Bah…"

"Harkin. Vakarian?"

"Aw, yeah…my story…sugar-tits, you ever heard of the ugly barnacle?"

The Chief didn't have time for this. "No."

Harkin blinked. "That guy was ugly…"

And then he promptly lost consciousness.

The Master Chief resisted the urge to slam his hand against his forehead. "Cortana…" he grumbled. "A little assistance?"

The AI sounded extraordinarily insulted when she next spoke. " _You could try slapping him."_

"What for?"

" _He sexually harassed me!"_

The Chief sighed. _She_ was complaining? "He was drunk and he couldn't even _see_ you."

She remained silent.

"Cortana?"

" _Fine. Got an incoming message from Lilim. Patching her through."_

The Chief sighed as he accepted the transmission. He hoped the Commander had better news. "Shepard?"

" _Spartan. I have interesting news. Apparently, our good General used to work with the infamous information broker known as the Shadow Broker. The Aestus Initiative owes the Broker a favour, which one of their contacts was supposed to deliver upon. Needless to say, this contact failed."_

"So?"

" _Manners, Spartan. Manners. You should remember that you and me are both in the run for the Spectre candidacy. This information was…difficult to come by."_

Again, the Chief sighed. "So what did you find out?"

" _Now that was not so hard, was it? The Shadow Broker hired a bounty hunter to deal with this contact. If you ask nicely, I might give you his name?_

"Whose? The contact or the bounty hunter?"

" _Hmm…it depends on whether you are willing to say "please", I suppose."_

"No." That was all John was willing to say, before he terminated the transmission. "Cortana. I need you to find out about that contact. If he's in contact with the Initiative, he holds vital information."

" _That depends."_

The Chief frowned. Cortana had never ignored a call for help before. "On what?"

" _Whether you are willing to say "please" or not."_

The Master Chief sighed. " _Please_ consider that there are lives at stake here."

" _Good enough. Wouldn't want Lilim the competition to get the better of you now, do we?"_

"We are bringing a dangerous terrorist to light. There is no competition here."

" _Says you! There is only room for one Spectre, Chief. And contrary to Avery and Lilim, we do_ not _have the Office of Naval Intelligence's backing. Halsey was right; some people really don't want to see you become a Spectre."_

The Chief supposed he could understand why; Spectres answered to the Council directly. They served all the races and not just humanity. Had it been up to him, he would have likely declined the position as well. But the higher-ups were about as united as the former Covenant races were, and they couldn't agree on a single thing without trying to sabotage each other.

Colonel Ackerson's involvement with doctor Halsey came to mind .

He was about to exit the club when he heard the sudden rattle of gunfire, followed by an explosion.

John double-timed it down the ramps to the right of Chora's Den, towards the back alley where he had left Specialist Victorias to cover him.

There, he spotted a pair of dead Turians lying on the ground, their torsos riddled with bullets. Two Salarians and a third Turian were hunched down behind cover, taking potshots at the Liminal soldier.

With a roar of outrage, a Krogan charged down the alley to flush her out.

The Master Chief took aim with his assault rifle and fired off a few three-round bursts. The Turian went down easy enough as the 7.62mm rounds tore through his kinetic barriers, but the Salarians had better gear. Their shields shrugged off the fire that was aimed at their bulbous heads and they scrambled for cover.

Of course, there was barely any cover to be found in the Lower Wards. The Spartan closed in on the pair of aliens, who proceeded to make two fatal mistakes.

First mistake: they wasted precious seconds in fumbling with their omni-tools, loading up an attack program and taking aim at the rapidly-approaching Spartan.

Second mistake: they failed to get the hell out of the way and clear out of melee range to actually _use_ their loaded omni-tool programs.

The Master Chief put the first alien down with a stroke of his rifle butt, then launched himself at the second, snaking his armoured arm around his neck and applied a chokehold, throttling the alien into unconsciousness within seconds.

A loud cry and a sharp _crack_ signalled the end of the Krogan mercenary as well.

"Hostiles neutralized," he said.

The Dragon came out of the alley. There were a few scratches and dents on her body armour, and alien blood still coated her left arm, but she looked no worse for the wear.

She looked down at the prone forms of the three other aliens and cracked a smile.

" _See?"_ Said Cortana. " _I told you taking her with us was a smart idea. She kept the assassins busy long enough for you to lay down the hurt. And we took one alive."_

Assassins…he only realized it now. These mercenaries were likely hired to kill him. That provided a very solid base for Saren's accusations, as well as credence to Shepard's plan.

But how had Desolas figured out where to find him? It didn't make sense…

"Watch the perimeter," he ordered the Specialist. "We don't any more surprises."

" _The Initiative must be getting desperate, if they're willing to hire mercs to take you down. Unless, of course, these were the bounty hunters hired by our mysterious "Shadow Broker"."_

No, the Chief didn't suppose so. Shepard had mentioned a bounty hunter. Single. "Only one way to find out."

He slapped the Salarian across his face, gently enough to merely hurt him. The alien moaned, but didn't wake up.

At least, not until the Spartan slapped him again, then shook his shoulders to hurry the process up.

"Who are you working for?" Said the Spartan.

The Salarian frantically looked around, his eyes darting from the corpse of his comrade to the corpse of the Turian.

Then, he closed his eyes and sighed.

"I don't have time for this." John pulled out a combat knife and pressed it against the left eyeball of the alien, laying down just enough pressure to make the alien feel the tip. "If you don't tell me-"

The Salarian made a sudden gesture with his lower jaw. Something loudly cracked inside his mouth and Dracosa whirled around, as if she recognized what was going on.

" _Chief!"_ Cortana shouted. " _His mouth, quickly-!"_

Too late. The alien swallowed something, then started trembling. Yellow foam bubbled out from his lips and a low, guttural moan escaped his throat.

John sighed and dropped the alien to the ground, leaving him to convulse and die. He had seen something like this before, with Insurrectionists. Some people _really_ didn't want their enemies to capture them alive.

The Dragon-girl leant over the Salarian's body, sniffed deeply and pulled a face.

"Poison," she growled.

That verified it.

" _Wow. The Initiative really doesn't want people to discover their involvement. Lucky enough for us, I finally found Vakarian. Our C-Sec agent was last seen sniffing around the local medical bay, run by one doctor Michel. If someone knows where to find the unlogged girl, it's him. Let's just hope the others have less luck than we do."_

 _~0~_

* * *

 _ **Ten minutes ago**_

It did not happen often that Lilim found herself unable to immediately discover what she wanted to know. The diminutive Volus was a hard one to bargain with, and it did not help that his relation to the infamous Shadow Broker greatly infuriated her as well.

The Shadow Broker dealt in secrets. One piece of intel for another, trading over top-secret government plans to other nations. Whoever they were, the Broker was responsible for selling Devil Clan secrets to alien nations. When that was discovered, it had thrown quite a lot of the Clans in disarray.

Devil society was based on maintaining a perfect balance with each other, assuring that no clan had any real advantage over the other. It kept them stable. It was a functioning system and the Shadow Broker had messed that up.

That did not win Barla Von, the banker, any points in her book.

That his eyes were fully concealed underneath his atmospheric suit did not help matters either.

"Let us say that the Initiative failed to deliver on their promise." He paused to take a shuddering breath. "Their contact, a man named "Fist", has betrayed them. And the Shadow Broker is very displeased now."

"I can relate," muttered the Devil. "I would not want to be this contact right now."

"In-" another breath. "-deed. All I can tell you, is that the Broker hired a mercenary to deliver a clear message."

"Signalling that even the Initiative cannot leave the Broker hanging?" She mused.

"Correct. Whether the contact wittingly failed his task or not, I do not know. What I do know, is that this mercenary is tasked to kill Fist. "

That sounded like the perfect opportunity. Finding this Fist and getting him to talk would be easy enough. Lilim could feel a rising sense of anticipation at the very thought of it. "And where do I find this…Fist?"

"Now that information will cost you…" He took another breath. "More than was allotted."

Lilim bristled. With the Master Chief going after the unlogged Quarian and the Sergeant Major hunting for more information about the looming threat above Sparatus' head, this was the best trail for her to follow.

Except that she didn't have much money on her.

"Unless you are willing to trade information of your own?" Offered the Volus.

Disgusted, the Elder Devil turned and left. She did not have much options now. Still, this information might be important to the others, too.

After a brief moment of hesitation, she called the Spartan.

 _~0~_

* * *

 **C-Sec Academy**

The Citadel Security headquarters was a hive of activity. A dozen conversations were going on at the same time, ranging from politics to planned arrests to rumours about a terrorism plan.

But one conversation caught Avery's attention in particular. One that rendered him deaf to all other noise that was going on inside the lobby.

"I'm…sorry, ma'am…we found him just a few hours ago," the Turian told the Kobold mother. "The boy was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. We don't have anything concrete, yet, but it looks like a deal gone bad…"

It didn't look like the woman had heard the rest. Upon hearing that her boy had been "found", she started trembling, before breaking down in slow, agonizing sobs. The Turian looked like he wanted to reach out and touch her shoulder, but reconsidered. He rubbed his elbow, giving off serious vibes that he had no clue how to deal with a weeping mother.

Well…she wasn't a mother anymore.

Johnson watched as an Asari officer took over, gently taking the woman by her shoulders and taking her to a more private room.

But not before she and the Turian exchanged some brief, almost-inaudible words. And had Avery not been so sharp, so focused, he might not even have caught it.

 _Another victim of Fist_

Fist.

That was the second time Avery heard that name. The first time someone dropped the name, it had revealed that the man was a dealer. Now, it became obvious that he was a goddamn murderer.

The Sergeant Major was going to make a little detour, now.

He was halfway to the other elevator when he heard a Long Legs Arachne drop the name as well.

"Witnesses saw you making threats towards Fist!"

Third time.

Johnson turned to look at the scene. The Long Legs was busy chewing out a rough-looking alien with a blood-red crest and scars running down one side of his face. A Krogan, who didn't seem one bit bothered by the verbal abuse.

"We're going to nail that bastard, but we'll do it on our terms! So stay away!"

" _Your_ terms are shitty," the Krogan replied. Avery made a mental note to tell the Arbiter he'd found a guy with an even more badass voice than him. "I don't listen to people like you."

"I don't care if you listen or not. Consider this a warning; if you break the law, we'll hunt your ass down!"

The smallest of grins formed on the Krogan's face. "You should try that."

"Wish I could," growled the Arachne. "But we're bound by restrictions. You're still technically legal. Best for you if you keep it that way."

Having said her thing, the Liminal officer walked away, moving to a more urgent situation.

The Krogan chuckled and turned to leave as well, but Avery was on him in a second.

"Hey, big guy. Hold up."

Scarface turned around. "Something you want, human?"

"I hear you're talking shit about this Fist guy."

Reptile-boy's eyes glimmered with malice as he growled his reply, "And?"

"Got me curious. What's your beef with him?"

"Beef?" The alien gave him an odd look. "If you mean problem, none. I was imply hired to kill him." He scanned Avery with his dark eyes. "You don't look like a cop. What do you want?"

Acting more on habit than anything else, Johnson reached for his cigar and lit it. "Well…I was going to drop by Fist's, figure I'd kick his ass before blowing his head off. You interested?"

The Marine didn't miss how a look of suspicion crept into scarface's eyes. "That depends. I don't give a crap about who you are, but I'm getting paid for this job. If you're thinking about cashing in…"

He trailed off, letting the threat speak for himself. Avery, who couldn't give two shits about an overgrown frog threatening him, didn't bother to hide his own unspoken threats. "Not doing this for money. I'm a hundred percent grade-A Marine! We care about the _good_ stuff. Kicking ass and keeping civvies safe."

The Krogan snorted. "Of course. Thought I smelled it before, You're one of them monster-tamers."

"You wanna come along or not?" Johnson barked, somewhat annoyed at the alien's tone.

"Sure. Been a while since I saw one of you in action. Might be fun."

"Yeah, I'll bet."

~0~

* * *

 _J.B: It appears as though my candidate has found a trail._

 _T.V: Really? Mine is already tracing hers._

 _J.B: So I've heard. The Spartan has verified the presence of hired mercenaries; assassins hired to kill him._

 _T.V: Interesting. Lil' is apparently more skilled at stealthy than your walking tank._

 _J.B: I told you before, this is no competition. You can leave your gun-waving attitude behind._

 _T.V: Says you. Tevos has a lot riding on this one._

 _J.B: So has Valern, but he understands the finer details. Victory is more important than personal gain, in this situation._

 _T.V: Whatever. You don't really believe Saren's crap, do you?"_

 _J.B: The UNSC's presence has proved that the galaxy is much more busy than we thought. I wouldn't rule out a Turian conspiracy, no._

 _N.K: Johnson is leading a joint human/Krogan charge on Chora's Den._

 _T.V: WHAT?_

 _\- Tela Vasir has disconnected._

 _J.B: …fascinating._

 _\- Jondum Bau has disconnected._

 _N.K: hah._

 _-Nihlus Kryk has disconnected._

 _~0~_

* * *

The stench of cheap booze and mind-altering drugs was thick in Chora's Den. The tenants had barricaded themselves inside, amped up on whatever shit they were using in their spare time. He could only guess about the sort of crooks that made a living inside this place.

 _The bouncer placed a hand on Avery's shoulder. He immediately grabbed the hand and pulled, breaking his wrist and exposing the bone…_

Johnson took a deep breath to steady himself. It had been twenty years since he had last been forced to kill another human. Few soldiers knew better than that aliens were the bad guys and humans the good guys. You weren't a soldier if you had to kill your own, especially when there were so little remaining…

But he had a job, and his duty. He'd be damned if he failed another mission because he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger.

He rounded the corner, but the big Krogan bounty hunter had beat him to it. The overgrown lizard wrapped himself with a thick, Biotic aura and went in shotgun blazing.

Johnson couldn't help but notice the pumping of the buckshot sounded a little bit too familiar. Human tech. Fancy human military tech.

The human took aim with his assault rifle and opened fire. Target after target fell, overwhelmed by the powerful full-metal jacket rounds. The thunderous roar of the powerful armour-piercing rounds was like music to his ears, and he allowed the glorious sound to drown out the fact that he was putting down a dozen _humans_.

The last of the thugs fell, half his head blown away by a particularly nasty hit.

The Krogan -Urdnot Wrex, he was called- huffed and lowered his shotgun. "That was my kill!" He grumbled. "You stole my kill, you idiot."

Johnson glared at the big alien. "Who are you calling an idiot, idiot? You see a target, you put it down! That's how it works!"

"Just shut up. You're giving me a headache with your idiocy."

Avery couldn't care less. He was here for that asshole, Fist. A goddamn crime lord, stashed away in the Citadel. A killer of civilians, no less. There was nothing quite as familiar to a soldier like the sight of a weeping civilian. Nothing quite as infuriating.

Definitely .eEnough for Johnson to put his plan to protect the Turian Councillor on a halt to take the bastard down.

"Come on out, Fist!" Yelled Johnson. "Afraid I'm gonna fist _you_?"

Wrex grunted. "Yeah. No."

A Krogan came out of the hallway at the far end of the bar, holding the biggest shotgun the Sergeant had ever seen in his entire life. He immediately ducked for cover, while Wrex stood his ground.

Johnson quickly reloaded his rifle, allowing the two Krogan to play a game of "who can outshotgun the other first".

As it turned out, the UNSC semi-automatic shotgun proved to be superior to its mass accelerator counterpart. Micro-slugs slammed into Wrex's barrier, but the scarred alien might as well have been shot with a paintball for all it did to faze him.

In turn, the other Krogan came apart underneath a barrage of '8 Gauge' shells, which were so powerful that they could have turned a Brute to hamburger. The shell itself contained at least two dozen smaller balls made out of a very dense alloy. Hell, using the 8 Gauge against humanoid targets was still practically illegal.

Wrex chuckled, either with satisfaction at the kill or at the Marine's sideways glance at his piece. "Something on your mind?"

Avery shook his head. He'd seen Innies with good UNSC ordnance in their hands, but aliens? Somewhere somehow, an alien black market was making a killing.

He made a mental note to shut that market down as soon as the brass made him one of them ghosts. Spectres.

"You might wanna reload," said the Sergeant Major. "He's gonna know we're comin'."

The two proceeded to the back. There were two more human guards standing there, but Johnson was much quicker to the draw. Their split-second of hesitation was enough for him to backhand them both, at the same time, with one hand.

They slumped to the ground, unconscious.

But the way was barred. And this time, he didn't happen to have a key.

Johnson scowled and knocked on the big metal door, which rattled and shook. "What's the matter Fist?" He yelled. "Open up! I'm only gonna fist you in your kneecaps!"

"That's still not right," grumbled the old Krogan. "And calm down. I've got a little something here…"

Avery stepped out of the way, allowing the bounty hunter to use _his_ key. It seemed that humanity wasn't the only species who liked to use white-hot thermite as a masterkey. Whatever it was that Wrex put on the lock, it had to burn like a pissing Brute.

And it exploded afterwards, too.

"I don't care what your "beef" with him is," said the Krogan. "But he dies in the end."

Johnson cracked his knuckles. "Fine by me." He had some fisting to do, as well.

The two of them dove into the room, the automatic turrets activated and the battle was joined.

~0~

* * *

 **Medical Bay**

The Spartan could hear arguing, followed by the shriek of a woman. Doctor Michel, he supposed. He waved Dracosa forwards, signalling her to take cover by the door.

" _Analyzing. Only one point of entrance, unless you want to trek for five minutes to get to the other side of the Wards."_

"We'll make it work." The Master Chief stopped at the other side of the door as well. The Dragon-girl was still far from an ideal teammate and he would much rather work with Johnson or Shepard, but apparently it didn't work that way.

Still, there were tactical benefits to be had. And Cortana was keen on keeping her around, for whatever reason.

" _They really ought to improve your HUD so we can through walls…anyway, I have a feeling our Garrus fellow won't be the only one inside."_

The Master Chief opened the door and whirled the corner, gun at the ready. It only took him a heartbeat to take in the scene and devise a plan of attack.

It was a hostage situation, Five thugs, two of them Turian, one of them a Dragon. A Krogan and a human were standing to the rear, observing the frail woman they were keeping at gunpoint.

The Chief didn't miss the Turian cop creeping around, either.

"Eleven 'o'clock, Krogan and Liminal," he ordered the Specialist, even as he opened fire. He was joined by the Turian, who immediately whirled around from his cover and opened fire as well.

The Turian was accurate, perfectly nailing the human between the eyes. But the Spartan was much faster. Doctor Michel barely had time to duck for cover before the two Turians slumped to the ground, their heads cracked open by precise bursts of fire.

Specialist Victorias didn't fare so well. The hostile dragon and the Krogan had pounced her at the very start of the fight and her shotgun round had only clipped the Liminal thug's left wing. She held her kin at arms' length with one claw, while preventing the Krogan from slipping his thick fingers around her throat with the other.

The Chief whirled on the remaining hostiles-

" _Wait."_

Had she been anyone else, he would have ignored her. "Explain yourself," he all but ordered Cortana. Telling a Spartan to wait while a fellow soldier was struggling with the enemy was something even a seasoned officer wouldn't do.

" _Just watch. I know you don't like her, but…just watch."_

He did. But first, he gestured towards the woman with his head, signalling the cop to reassure her. The last thing he needed was a panicking civilian.

Draco's tail whipped out, shattering the Krogan's legs with one fell strike .The creature howled and sagged to the ground, allowing the girl to bring her full attention to bear on the hostile Liminal.

Watching two Dragons go at it was something like watching a Hunter go toe to toe with an unarmed Brute Chieftain. It was basically a matter of who could rip out enough chunks of the other one to incapacitate them first. Maybe Vakarian knew this. Maybe it was just his instinct, telling him that the two Dragons were definitely opponents he shouldn't be messing with. Whatever it was, he covered the doctor's eyes with one gloved hand and simply glared at the thrashing figures.

The Spartan could immediately see who would win. Whereas both fighters were vicious combatants, Draco was faster and _smarter_ , oddly enough. Or at least disciplined enough to use martial arts instead of mindlessly clawing away. She kicked the enemy Dragon away, slugged the Krogan in his face as he rose to his feet again and slammed her elbow into his stomach for good measure, sending him flying through the room.

It all culminated in the Liminal thug charging the Specialist, the Specialist dodging the sluggish strike and slicing her opponent's eyes with a lightning-fast jab across his face.

An injury like that wouldn't keep a rampaging Dragon long for long, but it didn't need to. Draco grabbed her foe's tail flailing tail, dragged him towards her and then grabbed the thug's head with a clawed foot, before slamming him face-first into the floor.

The sturdy tiles cracked underneath the impact.

The girl finished her opponent by grabbing him by his horns and his chin and _twisting_ , audibly breaking his neck.

Doctor Michel squealed at the noise of breaking bones.

" _See?"_ Cortana said, sounding rather satisfied with herself. " _She's good. Not Spartan-good, but who is?"_

No, John didn't suppose anyone was. "Fine," he told Cortana. "I'll have her stick around." Out loud he said, "Area secure."

Only _then_ did the Turian let the woman back on her feet. "Doctor Michel, are you alright?"

"I…I'm fine…I'm not hurt…"

She didn't look fine to the Chief. "Garrus Vakarian?"

The C-Sec cop turned to face him. "That's me. I don't know who you are, but I should thank you. I don't know if I could have handled those guys on my own."

"And these "guys" were…?" Asked the Chief.

"They work for Fist," the doctor spoke. Only now did the Chief realise she had a pretty heavy accent. "They wanted to shut me up, keep me from telling Garrus about the Quarian."

That was her. The unlogged vagrant he was looking for.

"Quarian?" Garrus asked, looking confused.

"C-Sec security data logged the arrival of a Quarian a few days ago," explained the Chief. "She claimed to have vital information about the attack on Eden Prime, but Citadel Security "failed" to properly log her."

Vakarian's mandibles twitched when he heard that. "They failed to log her?"

"She was sent on her way."

"Hmm…and how do _you_ know this?"

The Chief didn't miss the sudden hostility in the cop's voice. "A Spectre candidate. Tell me where to find the Quarian and I'll be on my way."

"A Spectre candi-" The Turian suddenly cut himself off. His eyes grew to the size of Plasma grenades and he gasped. " _Spirits,_ you're a Spartan! I didn't -how couldn't I-"

"The Quarian, officer."

It was the woman who found the courage to talk first. "I…she came to me a few days ago, hurt and desperate for a place to hide. S-said she was willing to share information for shelter…so I-I put her in contact with Fist."

Hearing that, Garrus whirled around. "What? Fist doesn't work for the Shadow Broker anymore! That's why there is a big Krogan mercenary out there trying to kill him!"

The Chief raised an eyebrow at that. He had seen that mercenary in the club, making threats.

" _Chief, we need that Quarian girl and fast! If this Fist guy kills her, we'll only have one option left!"_

"We need that evidence," said the Chief. Badly enough to leave protecting the Turian Councillor to the other candidates, even. "Move out!"

"Wait!" Said Vakarian. "I can't just let you hit Chora's Den on your own?"

The Chief frowned. "Why not?"

Vakarian pulled his pistol out again and loaded a different ammo modification. "Because I want to take that bastard down as well! I'm going with!"

"Then fall in line," said the Spartan. "As long as you don't slow me down."

"I've been on the force for years, Spartan. I promise I won't slow you down!"

Half a minute later, after the Master Chief and the Specialist had lost Garrus because he slowed them down too much, they reached the alley leading to Chora's Den. Something was different though.

The bullet holes and scorch marks hadn't been _that_ close to the entrance the last time. And the sound of automatic weapons discharging didn't belong _inside_ the club either.

"Trouble," said the Chief. He drew his rifle and, after a brief moment of hesitation, decided against moving carefully. If the Quarian was in there, she was in mortal danger. Her death meant that Sparatus became the _only_ way to prove Desolas Arterius was guilty. "Specialist, breach and clear. Move in fast and hard."

She smirked somewhat at his permissions to engage the enemy on her own terms. Her eagerness was somewhat unsettling.

The amount of hostiles he found inside the club, which had been filled with scum the last time he visited the place, was even more unsettling.

There were none. None alive, at least. More than a dozen corpses, mostly human. A Krogan, with half its head and chest blown away.

While the Dragon was mostly disappointed by the lack of resistance, the Spartan was almost disturbed. He carefully scanned the bodies for the tell-tale visor of a Quarian, which he fortunately enough didn't find.

His motion tracker indicated a target behind him. He spun around, finger on the trigger-

Only to find a wheezing and coughing Garrus Vakarian leaning against the bar, holding his side. "Man…you two…move too…damn…fast…"

A gunshot echoed from the back of the club. The Master Chief hurried down the hallway and into the small office it led to, closely followed by the Specialist and the Officer.

Johnson and the red-crested Krogan stood on each side of a metal desk, together with Shepard, Alenko and Williams. They were looking down at something obscured by the ruined remains of a 30mm automatic turret.

Said something turned out to be the dead body of a human male with a single entry wound underneath his chin and a wide exit hole at the back of his head.

The Chief put two and two together, but what the Krogan mercenary said pretty much confirmed it. "All this trouble and he eats his own gun…what a disappointment."

Shepard was the first to notice them. She turned to look at the Chief with a mixture of sorrow and anger. "You are too late," she muttered.

Garrus entered the scene as well. "Fist's dead?" He exclaimed. "Bastard _shot_ himself?"

Johnson stood way in the back, smoking a cigar. "The Commander explained it. Said Fist betrayed the Shadow Broker, failed the Aestus Initiative."

"He had every reason to off himself," Alenko commented. "If those people came after him…"

"Fat lot of good that does!" Williams angrily shouted. She kicked the corpse, hard. "The hell are we supposed to find the Quarian girl now?"

"Quarian?" Said the Krogan. "What Quarian?"

"The less people know, the better," replied the Spartan. He started searching around the office for anything that might reveal where the Quarian had gone. Data packets, logs, anything. Directed by Cortana, of course.

A knock on the frame of the wrecked door got the attention of everybody inside.

"Hi," said the Marine. She was a Lamia, an Echida. She didn't look at all surprised to find an office with a dead guy, three Marines, a Krogan, a Turian, an Elder Devil, a Dragon and a Spartan inside. "Lieutenant Miia Lucifinae. I am looking for the Spectre candidate?"

After a few moments of awkward silence, Shepard spoke up. "Well then…this has all the makings of your lucky day."

~0~

* * *

"You're late," said the barefaced Turian. Tali nervously eyed him as he stepped towards her, calmly moving closer and closer. He didn't wear any armour, but he was dressed in a black bodysuit made out of ballistic clothing. No doubt he had eezo modules integrated, giving him shields for an extra element of surprise. Would she be able to deplete them with her shotgun, if things turned bad?

There was no mistaking the M-12 Locust SMG on his hip. That thing would rip through her shield with just a few quick bursts.

Another Turian approached her, from behind. He startled her; she hadn't even heard him coming!

"What is this?" She asked. _Demanded_. She hated how feeble her voice sounded, how _nervous_ it made her sound. "Where's Fist? Where's the Shadow Broker?"

The first Turian reached for her face. "He's coming…don't worry…"

She felt her heartrate fasten, her pulse increase. Another person joined them, from the left. A Salarian.

 _They are surrounding me!_ She thought. Her stomach tightened.

"No," She said. "No way-"

Too late. The second Turian grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms against her sides. The first one stepped in close before she could think of shooting him and grabbed her shotgun, twisting it from her hands.

And then he punched her.

White spots danced across her faceplate as the gloved hand slammed against her stomach, knocking all air out of her lungs and leaving her gasping.

"Where is the intel!" A voice yelled at her. She didn't know who, she couldn't even focus. "Tell me where it is, or we will rip your guts out!"

She was shaken and bruised, but not stupid. Trebling, she reached for her omni-tool, sending a command to the two flash-forged mines she had placed around the site, just in case she was betrayed again.

They detonated with enough force to knock a Krogan out, but the Turians were only barely fazed. The Salarian stumbled, whatever good that did.

"Suitrat!"

Another punch. This time, directed at her face. Her faceplate held,but only barely, and the Turian in front of her drew a wicked-looking _monster_ of a knife. Tali could see, just from looking at the thing, that it was meant to _hurt_ people instead of killing them.

He raised his knife as if to stab her in her gut with it, then seemed to think better. He whirled it around in his hand and slowly pointed it at the side of her head.

 _Keelah…_

Then, a monster dropped in-between them. Silent, just as quiet as a dead liveship. It moved like a crawling shadow, too fast and fluid for any organic being. Like it was a creature from another world, that didn't belong in this realm.

Screams were cut off, bones were shattered and flesh parted. Fresh blood splattered across her visor and the strong, long talons that kept her arms pinned to her body went limp.

The very second Tali was free, she bolted. Whatever the creature was, it had bought her time, time to run and get away from that accursed place. She was terrified, scared out of her mind and couldn't see where she was going. The blood that caked her faceplate made it impossible to see where she was going and she ran straight into someone's arms.

Tali screamed, pulled and kicked, her fear bolstered by desperation and the will to _get_ out of there while she still could, away from that creature. Her assailant pinned her against the wall, slowly, almost deliberately, and ran a hand across her visor, wiping the blood off.

It wasn't the face of a Turian assassin, or the bulbous, featureless helmet of a Salarian murderer. Not even the monster. It was a creature unlike she had ever seen before in her life. Taller than any human, yet she couldn't be anything _but_ a human. A human with long, curvaceous horns and dark eyes with a yellow centre.

Simply looking into those strange eyes made her feel…strangely calm. Almost reassured.

"Hush now sweetie…" Whispered the strange creature. "You are safe. Nobody will hurt you anymore."

Despite herself, despite her fears, Tali believed her.

~0~

* * *

Spartan One-One-Seven shook the dark, blue blood from his forearm and sheathed his knife again. "Good call," he told Cortana.

" _I know, right? We should use vents more often. They really do offer unparalleled mobility. The dramatic effect is also nice."_

He turned towards the Quarian, who was just starting to calm down somewhat. She was roughly humanoid, with digitigrade legs and tree-fingered hands. Her purple visor -still coated with patches of Turian blood- hid her face from public view. He supposed that she could see through that visor easy enough.

"We need the data on Eden Prime," he told her, but Shepard told him off.

"She _barely_ survived an assassination attempt!" She bit at him. "The poor girl is rattled!"

"Turian bastard may still be after her," said Johnson. "I say we bring her somewhere safe. Hell, the UNSC's Embassy is safe enough."

The Master Chief understood their concern. The Quarian's welfare was their number one priority. Apart from the welfare of the Turian Councillor, of course-

His thoughts came to a screeching halt as he watched both Johnson as Shepard with their respective "teammates". "Wait. Who is protecting the Councillor?"

The two other candidates turned to look at him. "Officially? His guards. Unofficially?" Said Shepard. "I believed it was your task, Spartan."

"I thought Johnson…"

"Heck Chief, I thought the Commander would!"

The Spartan resisted the urge to groan. "Take her-"

He had barely finished that sentence or he spotted something that piqued his interest more than the current situation. At the end of the hallway, barely visible in the dim lighting, he saw the faint glimmer of string, or a fibre-optic cord.

That couldn't be good.

"-take her to the Embassies. I'll take a different route and keep an eye on Sparatus."

He wasn't going to alert the others, for risk of them giving away that he was now aware that someone was listening in.

"Guess my job is done," muttered the scarred Krogan. "I'm going to cash in."

The Chief didn't pay the departing merc any thought. "Victorias, Lucifinae, make sure the Quarian lives."

While the Dragon merely shrugged, the Echidna immediately saluted. "Yes sir!"

As the large group departed towards the Embassies, the Master Chief headed the opposite way, walking casually towards the razor-thin wires at the end of the hallway.

" _I assume you saw something interesting?"_ Cortana asked him.

"Wires, end of the hallway," he said.

"… _ah._ " Cortana made use of his HUD's marking system to highlight the barely-visible cables in a dark colour of red, making it easier for him to keep track of them. " _There. Let's pay the owner a visit, shall we?"_

"My thoughts exactly."

The Spartan approached the hallway, but there wasn't anybody there. The cables led into one of the other hallways, which in turn led to an alcove with a terminal manned by one of the insectoid Keepers.

He didn't trust it, but he couldn't risk ignoring a potential threat. Even better, if this led him to another Initiative agent, he might even be able to extract a testimony. The UNSC could hunt down the General without incident after that.

John followed the thin cord all the way to the alcove, Had this been a different situation, he might have appreciated the sight. He could see half the citadel from that spot.

But it was also the perfect vantage point, and not just to him.

Eventually, he discovered that the most important aspect of the alcove was its emptiness; there wasn't anyone there-

" _Stop, don't move!"_

The Master Chief froze, just in time for Cortana to highlight the near-invisible cable at his feet he would have triggered otherwise.

"Thanks."

He slowly raised his boot and, ever so carefully, stepped over the tripwire. Someone was baiting him. Who? And more importantly, where? His motion tracker didn't point out anyone.

His trail of thought was interrupted by the laugher of a woman, which sounded like it came from everywhere at once.

"So you avoided my little trap? Clever little human, aren't you? But not clever enough."

 _Remote detonation._

The thought raced through his mind a fraction of a second too late.

The Master Chief registered several soft beeping sounds, shortly before the entire alcove exploded, shattering the alien metal underneath his feet. There was no time, nothing he could grab to brace himself. The floor fell apart and he was thrown into a freefall.

~0~

* * *

 **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: SPECIES: CENTAURS**

 _The Centaurs are a demi-human liminal race with the upper body of a human and the lower body of a horse. Herbivores, centaurs are normally found in grasslands and savannas, and are a race of nomads who become brave warriors in times of conflict. Their civilization is ancient, one of the oldest of all the humanoid races known to mankind. They were among the first races to be incorporated in the military_

 _While their participation often increases consumption of supplies and logistical problems, it also greatly increases the firepower and even mobility that a squad can bring to the frontlines. Despite being capable of carrying loads that would be a tremendous burden on most other species, Centaur troops sometimes choose superior firepower and heavy weapons above standard equipment. To the average Centaur soldier, carrying two Jackhammer Rocket Launchers with ammo to spare in addition to their normal gear means nothing._

 _It should be noted that their impressive frame does not come without drawbacks. Even Small Breed Centaurs are easy target to opportunistic combatants. Their large bodies also prevents Centaur soldiers from fulfilling roles such as driving vehicles and aircraft. Multiple projects have been launched in a futile attempt to solve this problem, fruitlessly_

 _Nevertheless, the physical prowess of a Centaur should not be underestimated. Warriors at heart, they are more than capable of dispatching of hostile infantry in close quarters combat even when unarmed. Then are capable of carrying melee weapons and firearms that would be difficult or outright impossible for humans. With the proper equipment and support, a charging lance of Centaurs can lay waste to entire hostile divisions._

 _Due to their innate sense of honour, rivalled only by the Sangheili, it is not unusual to see Centaurs partake in ceremonial events, escort high-ranking officers or even serve as security to more high-profile VIP's._

~0~

* * *

 **AN:** _life was thoroughly kicking my ass, but I'm finally getting back on track._

 _Anyway, massive shout-out hidden in the first scene. Kudos to the people who recognize it._


	13. 2,2: Daily life with the Council

**~0~**

* * *

" _Liminal species, known as 'monsters', 'extra-species' and 'mamono's' , among others, come in many shapes, sizes, and dispositions. Some people would argue that it is precisely because of their variety that they proved to be so vital during the Human-Covenant war, where they proved invaluable in the survival of mankind. (see Zhukov et al. 2548 for the excellent "Liminal Supremacy" where he makes a brilliant case, explaining the success behind Liminal soldiers during various historical wars.)_

 _Indeed, it is not farfetched to consider the Liminal population as one of the UNSC's most powerful assets. However, as ancient scholars put it, power comes with a price._

 _Since the Interspecies Exchange Bill from 2012, researchers have put in much effort discovering the secrets of Liminal genomes (Dawkins et al. 2512 and Morgan 2510). They, along with evolutionary biologists, have discovered that the Liminal species are evolving faster than any other_ _sentient races, including humans. Recent comparisons with Turian, Asari and Salarian DNA confirm that this is true when compared to Citadel Species as well._

 _Ever since mankind took the stars, new species are appearing with startling frequencies. In section two, we will argue that the evolutionary and genetic trend of Liminal development reveals some startling details."_

 **Excerpt from "Understanding Liminal Genetic Variation: a study into the evolution of more dangerous Liminal races"**

 **~0~**

* * *

 **Omega Nebula**

 **22:00 Hours, January 22th, 2549 (Military Calendar)**

 **Omega**

The General wove his way through a sea of writhing bodies, the bulk of them alien and reeking of sweat. The ambient illumination of the club "Afterlife" bathed the crowd in a bright shade of violet-pink, casting blinking and rotating shadows on the floor. The music, loud and pulsing, resonated through the club with such force that it almost felt physical.

Omega was a heaping pile of filth and lies. One didn't have to look far to find violence. It was everywhere, be it taking place in plain sight, or hidden behind a shroud of shadows. The air was thick with hostile intent. One wrong move, one misplaced step and the fragile peace would shattered. A bloodbath would the result.

The General took a whiff of his cigar. It almost felt like home.

The Queen's booth lay ahead. Flanked by two routes. He ran his eyes across the guards.

A Turian and a Batarian. Both were armed. Guns on holsters at their hips, and hidden guns underneath their outfits. The Batarian had a knife strapped to his boot, as well.

The General glanced over his shoulder, scanning the rest of the club.

Two of the strippers were trained Huntresses. The bartender had a gun on him as well. A Krogan sat at the counter, armed with a massive blade.

 _Three_ _of the strippers,_ the General corrected himself.

These people were killers by nature. To them, the thought of ending a life came as natural as breathing.

" _Venom, in position."_

" _Hunter, in position."_

But it took more than the right attitude to be a killer.

The Batarian glared at him as the General headed up the stairs. His hand went to his sidearm, lingering near, but not quite on. His lips moved, barely discernible. He was communicating to the third guard, holding position near the Queen. They didn't move to stop him.

At least, not until the General placed his hands in his pockets and calmly strolled towards the overlook where the Queen stood, her arms crossed over her chest, accompanied by another Turian and Batarian. These were more visibly armed, carrying mass accelerator assault rifles.

The Queen spoke.

"That's close enough."

In that moment, both the Turian as the Batarian moved to intercept him, guns at the ready.

The General glanced from his left, where an SMG was being pressed against his temple, to his right, where a pistol was being aimed from a safer, more distant position.

He was unimpressed.

"You're not welcome here," the Queen told him.

"That doesn't change anything," replied the General. "Welcome or not, you and I are here now."

Aria T'Loak gestured with her head, and the Turian stepped away. The Batarian moved closer, if looking somewhat hesitant about it. His omni-tool flared to life. A scanning program.

Jack Eventide softly shook his head.

"Your species is a very unwelcome sight. My people couldn't find anything on you."

"They're not the first," he replied.

The Batarian tensed up at that.

The Queen turned around and faced him. Her eyes were cold. Hard, like steel. Arrogant too. "I don't know how you got in here. I suppose it doesn't matter. I'll find out your name _after_ I've had you thrown out the airlock."

She gestured to the Turian, who stepped towards Jack-

"That won't happen."

Aria raised her hand, signalling her henchman to stop. "What?"

"A name means nothing on the battlefield, and I've had _many_."

She scowled. "You really need to stop talking. You're old. I get that. Think I respect that? Think again."

"You respect power. It's the only thing you recognize. The base rule of Omega."

This time, Aria laughed, her tone dry and humourless. Turning around to face the main floor, she spread her arms and started talking…

…only for two red dots to appear on her body. One between her eyes and one on her heart. She noticed them. She had to, as she stopped talking and shot Jack a fuming look over her shoulder.

"Power," Jack said again. He tapped his cigar against his thigh and took another whiff. "But the power you're dealing with now, goes beyond you."

Her eyes narrowed, and Jack felt a faint humming in the air. Biotics. She was suppressing hers. He would have to strike her fast if she was going to escalate this. Disable her Biotic Amp.

"Smart, to take assurance with you. Not so smart to _reveal_ their position of power." She gave a gesture with her head, and the Turian scrambled away

Wordlessly, Jack pulled his left hand out of his trenchcoat, and with it, a small mirror. "This isn't about power," he continued, sitting down on her couch. He placed the mirror in-between the two of them, and the red dots disappeared. "We're fighting for the future."

"How noble," she said, sarcasm dripping from her words. "Is this about the Covenant? Or justice, against your 'Batarian oppressors'?"

The General lowered his cigar, noticing how the Batarian soldier kept his weapon trained on him. Not directly, of course, but not passive either. These ones were trained. "The meaning of justice changes from one day to the next. A professional soldier never brings justice into the mission."

She waved with her hand, dismissing his words. "Whatever. It won't be long before my men find your snipers and tear them apart, so I suggest you make this quick."

He nudged the mirror towards her. She eyed it for several long moments, before giving him a look. "It doesn't matter," she said. On the Citadel, the species might scramble to serve your needs. Out here, you're on your own. Omega might not care about you, but the Terminus Systems are crawling with people who could drink your blood."

The threat went unsaid. That she'd help those in the Terminus Systems get to the UNSC, if she wished to do so.

Jack was still unimpressed. "They say that General Levitcus has taken refuge on Omega."

"Do they now?"

"They do. I am going to find him."

She chuckled dryly. "And what makes you think _I'm_ going to help you?"

"Because you don't want a member of the Aestus Initiative to run free on Omega."

Aria T'Loak was among the oldest individuals in the galaxy. The General imagined that she was an expert at concealing her emotions. Even so, the mentioning of the Initiative pulled a response from her. A slight narrowing of her eyes, a tightness around her mouth.

"I am giving you one day to find this person," she told him, her voice barely audible. "Starting from now. If you don't find him then, I will make sure every single person on this station capable of holding a gun, will be out for your blood."

Jack stood up from the couch, putting his cigar out. "We won't be long."

He didn't give her another look as he left her podium and made his way down again. On his way out, the Batarian growled at him, "You just made a _very_ powerful enemy, human!"

The General refrained from responding. He didn't need an alien to tell him that he had enemies. The sort of people he was dealing with? The things that were to come? A narcist like Aria could get in line.

~0~

* * *

 **Serpent Nebula**

 **16:46 Hours, January 23th, 2549 (Military Calender)/**

 **Citadel**

John saw the sky and ground flashing in rapid succession before his faceplate. Time seemed to simultaneously crawl and jump and his mind raced to analyse his tactical situation. Decades of training took over, even as the sickening lurch of gravity took a hold of his stomach.

" _John!"_ Cried Cortana. As the metallic frame of the Citadel Wards flashed by a fifth time, the Artificial Intelligence highlighted a network of red threads. A patchwork of nets and grids, crisscrossing through the metal protrusions of the Citadel's arm. " _Do something!"_

The Master Chief forced his arms and legs open in a spread-eagle position, hoping to slow and control his descent. He reached out and tried to seize one of the highlighted cables. It didn't work; he was moving too fast and his gauntlet sheared through the first few. His legs, however, found more resistance, and he angled forwards as he continued falling.

His arms were ensnared by more threads. There were so many of them; layer after layer of razor-thin, flexible wires hooked around his limbs, torso and even helmet, to the point that it reminded him of the vein-like network of fleshy tentacles that had accompanied the Gravemind.

Ironic, seeing as they were currently slowing down his descent, preventing him from falling to his death.

" _Motion sensor shows movement above us. To the left, the right, our rear -damnit, they're everywhere!"_

The Spartan had bigger problems to worry about than Desolas's assassins; he was trying to get himself out of the tangled webs without accidentally falling to his death. Even as Cortana called that hostiles were approaching his position, he managed to free his left arm.

It didn't do him much good, as various cables around him snapped and he dropped again, only to lurch to a sudden halt as the ones around his legs held. He felt blood rushing to his head as he ended up hanging upside-down

" _Analysing. Judging by strength, density and flexibility, they are protein fibres. Arachnes! We're dealing with Arachnes!"_

"Oh, good," said the Chief. "Topsy-turvy in a spider web."

Flexing his muscles, the Spartan tried reaching for his feet to disentangle himself. He saw a trio of Liminals rapidly approaching him, traversing the web with unmatched mobility. They had the upper bodies of young-looking humans, but the lower bodies of giant spiders.

Two, the females, had black carapaces with a white pattern, while a third, even larger one, was red. He was covered with thick fur, as well, and kept his distance as the females advanced on the hanging Spartan.

Arachnes. John had tangled with them before. Their carapace functioned as a natural armour, with the added benefit of turning their fingers into flesh-rending claws.

On the several occasions that he had and his Spartans had encounter such foes, the fights had always been quick, bloody and vicious.

Which made it even stranger that Desolas Arterius could recruit skilled Liminals on such short notice. Odd, as well as disturbing. How far did his network reach?

"We got him now," muttered one of the Arachnes. Her brown hair was short, shaven on one side, and her eight eyes faintly reflected the artificial light from the Citadel's environment. "What do we do?"

The Chief cocked an eyebrow at that. _What do we do?_ Since when didn't assassins know what to do with their target?

"They want him alive," said the other Arachne. She had short, lavender hair and her outfit was much more…revealing than that of her comrades.

She crept closer to the Chief, and smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "But that doesn't mean we can't _play_ with him."

The first one had been whispering, tying to keep a low voice. But this one didn't even care that he could hear them talk.

"Karst says-"

"If Karst wants to complain, he can come over here. We built this trap, remember? And besides…" She ran her tongue past her fangs. "…I want to see him _squirm_ first."

" _Chief, a drop from this height would be lethal. I suggest you play along."_

"Play along with the Arachne assassins? Sure, why not."

Cortana's voice adopted an irritated tone as she replied, " _Unless you would rather fall to your death,_ again, _yes."_

The Chief looked back at his assailants again. He could easily draw his sidearm and shoot them, but Arachne reflexes were incredibly sharp. He might not be able to put them all down before one of them cut the silk and dropped him.

"Why don't you take Karst and secure the perimeter?" The lavender-haired Arachne then said. "I'll take care of the human."

"I-if you say so…"

It was only when the two other Arachnes left, that the Liminal actually addressed the Master Chief. "You are much heavier than you look. I thought soldiers were meant to be fit?"

She positioned herself a few meters above him, leaning against the metal frame of the Citadel. Her arms were crossed over her scarcely-clad chest, giving the Master Chief a rather distracting view.

Her fingers were, after all, sharp enough to sever the silk with a casual motion. They demanded his attention.

"Pleased to meet you. I am Rachnera." She chuckled and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "I assume this is the first time you've seen an Arachne? Are you scared?"

" _Contacting UNSC assets in the area. Help is on the way, Chief. Keep her talking."_

 _Better said than done…_ The Master Chief scraped his throat and met the woman's eyes. "Not really. Who are you?"

Cortana sighed in exasperation, while the Arachne raised her eyebrow at that remark. "I…just told you that."

"Your people," the Chief quickly continued. "Who do you work with?"

A dark look crossed her features. "You have no idea, do you? Who we are, what we want?"

Oh, he had an idea alright. It was no use flaunting his knowledge of the Initiative in the enemy's face, however. "I've fought a lot of enemies in the past. It blurs together in the end."

"And they aren't worth remembering? How typically _human._ " she was scowling as the talked, her many eyes focused directly on him. "As if I needed another reminder…"

This was not the first time the Chief had been suspended upside-down, and the MJOLNIR made the experience a lot more pleasant than it had been the last time. Still, he wanted to get out of his situation ASAP.

"Liminals aren't much better," he countered. "The Black Fang has caused more casualties than the Insurrection. Humans aren't worse than Liminals."

"Except, after five centuries, you humans still treat us like second-class civilians at best. Aren't the Templar an all-human organization, hmm? Have you actually _been_ to outside worlds, soldier-boy?"

The Chief was about to rebuke that, recalling his own experiences with Liminal soldiers, but he reconsidered. Soldiers weren't like civilians. In the army, things were different. But outside of the battlefield? Civil right protests were held for a reason. Wages, treatment, laws, they weren't equal on every colony. "I doubt attacking random soldiers will help you."

" _And attacking random Spartans will certainly not help,"_ quipped Cortana.

A look of surprise crossed the Arachne's face. "Random soldiers-?"

The Chief knew that he could open fire and kill her. In this situation, a possible assassin attempting to use him as a hostage? His training demanded he ended her life. But…after spending so much time fighting for humanity's sake, he didn't want to kill another human or Liminal without a very good reason.

Rachnera hadn't given him that reason yet. Besides; he was starting to think this wasn't about the Initiative. "If you let me go and surrender, I'll guarantee you won't be harmed."

At that, the Arachne started laughing. "Honey, you? Harming me? I don't think so. As for letting you go…" She raised her right claw and pressed her thumb against her index finger. "Poor choice of words."

The Chief realized too late what Rachnera was doing. She sheared the treads that kept him suspended in half with her fingers and he plummeted a dozen meters into the cavernous depths before he was caught by more silk and threads. They narrowly managed to slow him, albeit not without some snapping and tearing.

"How much do you weigh?" Rachnera asked as she climbed after him. "Or is it that armour?"

The Chief was about as surprised by the situation as she was. How these webs managed to hold half a ton of MJOLNIR was beyond him. But now he saw that the Arachnes had definitely planned this in advance; he was close to another alcove now, just like the one he had been scouting before they sprung their trap.

Was that how they got around without being seen? The same tunnels as the Citadel's Keepers used?

"So, what about those reinforcements?" He dryly asked Cortana, trying to orient himself towards Rachnera again.

" _We're not exactly easy to find, down here. Scanning environment. I recommend-"_

"Getting into that alcove and neutralize the Arachnes?" The Chief interrupted her.

Cortana sighed. " _Why, yes. If you're in the know, why did you get captured in the first place?"_

The Spartan ignored that comment and focused on Rachnera again. He was increasingly certain that she wasn't working for Desolas.

The Arachne crept closer, oblivious to the fact that the Spartan was definitely _not_ harmless yet. "Now, it is a shame you are still wearing that armour," she told him. "You'd be easier to take without it…"

" _Chief? I've been scanning the webs around that opening, and I've calculated a route from your current position to the opening there. If you sever the highlighted silk-"_ His HUD projected a section of the web around him in blue. "- _the resulting tension will swing you towards it."_

"Good work."

"So what are we waiting for?" He told Rachnera. "Are you going to keep talking?"

She was on him in a heartbeat, wrapping her long, sharp fingers around the underside of his helmet. His shields flared at the proximity, and her fingers slipped for an instant.

"You keep acting like such a trooper…" she whispered, baring her fangs. "I wonder…how long can you keep up the act?"

The Chief had his answer ready. His wrapped his left hand around the highlighted webbing and pulled. At the same time, he pulled his right hand free and snaked his arm around Rachnera's neck.

The Liminal gasped and clawed as his arm, trying to pull it away. Her chitinous nails drained his shielding with every hit, making it feel like he was trying to wrestle down an entire squad of Jackals simultaneously.

" _John, sniper!"_

A red dot appeared on his HUD. The alarm in Cortana's voice spurred him to move. Driven more by reflexes and training than anything else, the Spartan hauled the Arachne out of the way. He felt the impact as the sniper round impacted on his chest a split-second after he moved her, dropping his shields to twenty percent.

The impact left him winded, but by the time the sniper could fire again, he was already on the move. He ripped the webbing free, pulled out his combat knife and hacked through the other fibres Cortana had highlighted.

Another round whizzed past his ear and he pulled out his sidearm, taking several quick shots to keep the shooter suppressed.

It took him several moments, during which the Arachne struggled immensely. She clawed at his arm, struck at him with her legs and strung together enough curses to put a Helljumper to shame.

The Spartan grunted. Didn't she know that he was trying to keep her alive?

What was worse was that she was strong enough to keep the Chief from strangling her into unconsciousness. It was because of her struggling that his shields had been weakened enough for the sniper to nearly pierce them.

After what felt like an eternity, the last of the vital webbing broke, and the Chief broke free.

" _Chief, watch out for that –"_

Spartan and Arachne slammed into the metal frame of the alcove together, bringing back some unwelcome memories from the crashed _Pillar Of Autumn._

" _-railing."_

The Chief scrambled to dig his gauntlets into the railing. It helped that he didn't have to worry about escaping a crashing Banshee. He found a hold.

Rachnera, however, didn't. She missed the edge by a matter of inches, forcing the Chief to let go with one hand and grab a hold of her arm.

She gave a cry of surprise when she came to a sudden stop, and looked over her shoulder. "How did you manage that?" She asked, surprised.

" _Nice work Chief. Pull her up and remember, we don't need another suspect killing themselves!"_

"I got it covered," he replied. He double-checked to see if the other Arachne weren't around, emptied his magazine into the general direction of the sniper and then hauled the Liminal up and over the edge.

"You took that bullet like a champ," she commented as the two of them backed away from the edge. "Is your skull just that -hey!"

The Chief wasn't about to lose another lead. Before Rachnera could follow the same path as that alien, the wrestled her to the ground and wrenched her mouth open, probing it for poison capsules.

"Hrnng!" She shot him a glare that could have blasted through Titanium Grade-A battleplating and tried her best to chew his fingers off, but this time, he was prepared for her struggles.

" _Doesn't look like she's rigged...are we sure she's working for Desolas?"_

"No," replied the Chief. He pulled his hand back and released the Arachne, who immediately reached for her lower jaw and backed off.

"What the fuck was that!" She snapped. "You damn pervert!"

The Chief perked an eyebrow at that. _Pervert?_ "I needed to verify you weren't rigged for suicide."

"What? Are you insane!" She spat at the ground, pulling a face. "That was disgusting…"

"Never had a complaint before," the Chief said with a deadpan voice. "Now, who are you working for? Was that gunman with you?"

She looked at him like he'd just asked which way was up. "Are you that dense? Is this humanity's greatest hero, a pervert as well as an idiot?"

The Chief had never had a hostile talk to him like this before, was unpleasantly reminded of Lilim and was about to cut her down to size when she spoke again.

"I was here on behalf of the Black Fang, if you really must know." She brushed another strand out of her face and added, "Liminal business. And no. That sniper wasn't one of ours. I thought he was with you."

"I'm supposed to buy that?" He asked, reaching for his own sniper rifle.

She closed four of her eyes and sighed. "What do you think our plan was, prevent you from falling to your death, then shoot you? While you're fighting me? Idiot."

" _Our multi-legged lady has a point there. A sniper wouldn't risk hitting a friendly like that."_

"Unless they were just that good," retorted the Chief. To the Liminal, he said, "Too many people have tried to kill me today for this to be a coincidence. You're coming with me."

" _One of the Spectres was nearby, he's coming our way now. Patching the location of the sniper through now."_

Rachnera crossed her arms and looked away. "You're acting awfully composed for a guy who just got shot at."

"It's part of the job." He raised the sniper for emphasis and glanced back at the alcove. He had to find a way back to the Presidium, find a way to link up with the others. "Do you have any equipment on you?"

She gave him a look. "What are going to do, _search_ me?"

"If necessary, yes."

"Damn pervert…"

The Master Chief shook his head and sighed. At least he had reinforcements coming in…

~0~

* * *

 **Council private chambers**

Politics…politicians…

Councillor Sparatus eased himself back into his chair, holding a holopad in one hand and a drink in the other. When he had opted to back the Sergeant Major in his candidacy, he had secretly hoped that the man would at least be _somewhat_ easy to track on the Citadel. He was, after all, a man. Not a genetically-altered super-soldier or near-magical flying Liminal, but a honest-to-Spirits soldier.

He should have been wiser.

Spectre Nihlus had lost track of Johnson. After the so-called joint human/Krogan charge on Chora's den, the Sergeant-Major had simply vanished.

Vanished after causing about thirty casualties in that wretched little puddle of scum. Sparatus officially condemned the notion of an all-out assault on the club, but in reality, he was just glad to know it was now no longer an issue

The Councillor's mind slipped, and he thought back to the presence of assassins on the Citadel…

Cursing softly, Sparatus forced those thoughts out of his head and opened a different file. He wasn't going to think about that, he wouldn't. He'd drive himself insane with paranoia.

The Spectre candidacy. That was what he needed to focus on, the candidacy. Reports came in from the Wards; detailed descriptions of firefights and explosions. In turn, they were followed by reports of gunshots in C-SEC Academy and a sniper spotted near the Embassies.

This did give the complaints of his colleagues some merit; events like these had never occurred on the Citadel _before_ the discovery of the UNSC.

Sparatus heard the scrape of something heavy, and the subtle rasp of metal brushing past metal. He looked up from his datapad and looked around.

Nothing

The Councillor felt his heartrate fasten. Slowly, deliberately, he looked back at his datapad again. He felt extremely aware of the Thunder assault rifle he had hidden underneath his desk.

Had the Initiative come for him? Was it time? The Spectre candidates were too threatening for them, they had to put a stop to this.

Should he call his guards? Were his guards even _loyal_ to him? Who was to say that the Initiative hadn't gotten to them?

Why was he only thinking of this _now_?

Sparatus reached for his communicator. "Runea, Metivia, are you there? Report!"

Nothing.

Sparatus felt the urge to punch something. They hadn't been Spectres or anything, but they were still soldiers! Veterans with _years_ of experience! Why weren't they reporting in?

The Councillor slowly edged his seat towards the table, suddenly aware of how exposed he was here. The windows, the hallway, the side-office -they could come from anywhere!

Then the door to his office opened, and two Turians marched in. Not Runae and Metivia. No, these ones wore dull and black heavy armour, with face-covering helmets. Held in their hands were two, angular-looking weapons, smaller than a rifle but larger than a pistol.

The two of them were clearly larger than most Turians, but still managed to carry themselves with a military gait.

 _Blackwatch_? Sparatus thought as he slowly reached for his gun. _Initiative assassins. Not mercenaries. Special forces training?_

"Greetings, Councillor Sparatus," said the left Turian. His voice was being warped by a voice modulator, making him sound a lot more intimidating than an organic being had any business being. "Do you know who we are?"

The Councillor nodded. "I…I know who you are."

"Then you know why we are here."

"I do."

"Will you resist?"

Sparatus recalled the wise sayings of his grandmother, who had served years in Blackwatch herself. " _Sparatus, my boy, when faced with overwhelming odds, you must kick so much ass that they find your body with two broken feet!"_

Spirits bless her heart.

"Yes!" Sparatus shouted, before tearing the Thunder assault rifle from underneath the table and opening fire. "Traitors! Backstabbing barefaced sonsofbitches! Eat metal ammo blocks!"

Those human movies were cheesy, but the insults and slang in them possessed a philosophical deepness that could not be found in Asari movies. Sparatus sprayed the two soldiers with gunfire, before leaping to cover as the inevitable return fire perforated his chair.

The Councillor hurried to press the button of the belt around his waist, activating a military-grade kinetic barrier. The shield calibrated itself to his form, and a blue aura flickered across his body for a moment.

If only so that he wouldn't catch a stray bullet.

 _Boom._

Sparatus knew that sound. Something detonated nearby his office. A trap? More hostiles?

Spirits, how was he going to get _out_ of this mess?

Sparatus squatted down next to a wall, waiting for one of the bastards to show his face. They were lurking around there somewhere, no doubt using the many small rooms in the office to circumvent him. Turian doctrine might be stiff, but he could still expect these guys to be very well trained.

The Councillor risked peeking out of the his cover and was rewarded with a dozen mass accelerator rounds tearing through the wall he was hiding behind, narrowly missing him.

Sparatus forced himself to remain calm despite the enemy fire and aimed down the sides of his Thunder, spotting himself his first target-

Out of nowhere, a human crashed through the open space, rolling over the ground and coming to a sudden halt against the far wall.

"Johnson?" Sparatus yelled even as he opened fire on the assassin at the other side of the office.

"Hold on tight sir! Until these Turians are dead!"

The second hostile appeared as well. Standing over a foot taller than the human, the assassin threw his weapon aside and assumed a defensive stance.

Johnson rushed the assassin, no doubt ready to bury a fist into the bastard's face. But instead, he found himself slamming against the ground, demonstrating to the Councillor that the Initiative agents knew how to fight in close quarters as well.

The human recovered quickly. He pulled a pistol out of nowhere and sprayed the Turian on full-automatic, but his shields held.

Sparatus was forced to duck away when the second assassin reappeared, now to his right. He caught a burst of fire in his legs, but his shields held steady at forty percent.

 _What firepower!_ Thought the Councillor. He tried to roll into cover, forgot that Turians didn't know how to roll and instead fell flat on his back

Holding his Thunder in one hand, he nonetheless forced the assassin back into cover.

A human pistol went flying through the air, smashed against the reinforced window and broke into a dozen pieces.

The pistol was soon followed by the first assassin, who impacted on the same window with enough force to dent it.

So that was what the Volus company had meant with specialized-denting windows, Sparatus realized.

The Sergeant Major charged the assassin again, grabbing him by his armoured fringe and smashing his head into the dented window.

The assassin resisted, and lashed out with his leg, before grabbing Johnson by his throat.

Johnson, in turn, grabbed the assassin by his throat, and tried to push him back. It didn't work, as the assassin slowly pushed _him_ back instead, outmatching the human in raw physical strength

Then, the assassin made the mistake of headbutting Johnson. The resulting blow broke the assassin's helmet, and he staggered backwards, clutching his head.

Johnson rose to his feet, shaking somewhat. He popped the joint in his neck, causing the Councillor to wince.

"That's all you got?" He demanded,.

That was when Sparatus saw the second assassin appear, on Johnson's six. The man had no clue that he was about to be outflanked.

The Councillor took aim with his rifle. He was about to open fire when something large and green appeared out of nowhere, wrapping itself around the Turian's waist and jerking him out of his cover in one smooth gesture.

He quickly identified the appendage as the tail of a Lamia, and felt a rush of relief.

Reinforcements.

Lamia reinforcements. His _favourite_ kind of reinforcements, aside from the gunship kind.

The Liminal pulled the assassin towards her, crushing him in her many coils. These Initiative agents might be stronger than humans, with their fancy heavy armour, but that wouldn't help them now. He did not scream, even as the Lamia started breaking his bones

Sparatus took his chance and opened fire on the remaining assassin, aiming low to cripple instead of kill.

The bastard's kinetic barriers held and he spun towards the Councillor, pulling out a knife.

Johnson crossed the three meters that separated him from the assassin with a single step, and slapped him across the face with the back of his hand. The assassin went down.

"How many do we want alive?" Asked the Lamia.

Sparatus recognized her now. If he wasn't mistaken, she was Lieutenant Lucifinae, hero of Elysium.

He didn't realize he warranted this much of a rescue.

"One's good enough," replied the Sergeant Major. "Can't be too certain."

"Got it." Sparatus saw her jerk with her arm and nearly _felt_ the assassin's neck snap. The sound it sent shivers down his spine. He'd never grow accustomed to it.

Johnson turned towards Sparatus. He glanced at the Thunder assault rifle and nodded. "Mister Councillor? You might wanna reconsider your stance on the Aestus Initiative."

Sparatus nearly dropped his gun. "What? How do you -how do you know about _that_?"

Johnson and Lucifinae exchanged a look, after which the Lamia shrugged. "It's…a long story."

~0~

* * *

The UNSC's Embassy was a hive of activity when Shepard and her group arrived. Humans and Liminals alike were walking around, carrying holopads, crates and old-fashioned piles of paper, creating a rather crowded working environment. Still, the Embassy was one of the safest locations on the Embassy right now. The people working here were loyal and dedicated to each other. Very few of the employees had served in the military, but that didn't mean they couldn't defend themselves from a threat.

"Come," the Commander told the Quarian, Tali'Zorah, as the doors behind them closed. "You will be safe here."

Kaidan and Ashley had put their weapons away on Lilim's advice. The men and women working in the Embassies were patient, but nobody liked it when armed people came barging in, not even when said people had been extended an offer of protection.

The Krogan and the Turian had listened to her advice, as well. It seemed that even aliens knew better than to ignore an Elder Devil.

"So this is the UNSC's Embassy?" The Turian -Garrus- said as the group headed towards the ambassador's office. He turned his head from the right to the left, looking more like a tourist than an officer of the law. "Seems classy."

If there was one thing that could be said about Liminals in general, it was that they tended to be openly curious when interesting things happened. Half of the Liminals who worked in the Embassy stopped what they were doing to look at the group of armed newcomers.

Garrus inquisitive attitude was met in kind, as several harpies flew up to the floor above them and peeked over the railing. Some of them waved at Garrus, who was polite enough to wave back at them.

Wrex leered at a Minotaur, who angrily leered back.

As it turned out, they weren't the only ones to visit the ambassador's office. When the doors slid open, they revealed not only ambassador Ser'aphim and emissary Udina, but also Captain Anderson.

"- many casualties, David," grumbled Udina. "Property damage, not to mention the Initiative getting tipped off by this chaos. I was promised black operations, not-"

"Donnel," interrupted the ambassador. "We have guests."

"Guests? I do hope the Master Chief has- he interrupted himself when he spotted the group of obviously not-Chief's and scowled. He had, after all, been expecting the Spartan. Perhaps the Spartan and Lillim together. He hadn't been expecting Shepard to enter with a Quarian, a Turian in C-SEC armour, a Krogan carrying half his weight in guns and two soldiers. "Commander Shepard? What is going on?"

"Ambassador, Captain. We have found evidence of General Arterius's involvement with Eden Prime," Shepard replied, not bothering to hide her satisfaction. "Akuma, nice dress."

The other Elder Devil smiled. "Why, thank you. It was a gift."

"Lovely."

"Commander," Anderson said. He seemed to be unable to hide his eagerness. "The evidence? Where is it? Is it safe?"

Shepard gently nudged Tali, who looked as uncomfortable as a person encased in an environment suit could look. "This is Tali'Zorah. Desolas's assassins were after her because she had important evidence."

The young girl glanced at her for a moment, before taking a tentative step forwards. "I…I have the evidence right here. It proves that a General Desolas is conspiring with the Geth against the United Nations Space Command."

Udina crossed his arms and shot a glance at Ser'aphim. "You do? And where did find that?"

"On my Pilgrimage…I was in an unclaimed system in the Traverse. Looking for supplies," she clarified.

"Tali, was it?" Akuma said warmly. "Take a seat, take your time. Nobody here is going to hurt you."

Garrus, Ashley and Kaidan loosely fanned out in the office, finding themselves a place to sit as well. Wrex didn't; he leaned against a wall, watching with detached interest.

After a few moments, Tali continued. "I spotted a Geth ship there…and I tracked it to a nearby planet, where they set up camp. I was curious, you see? Because…because the Geth don't leave the Veil. So I…waited until one of the Geth was alone…and I disabled it to access its memory cores."

"I thought the Geth fried their memory cores when they're killed?" Interrupted Anderson.

"They do normally. But the Quarians built the Geth. We _know_ how they work. I was able to disrupt its data long enough to shut down its security systems, and access its core."

"And what did you find?" Asked Udina. Lilim didn't think she'd seen him blink this entire time. The man could win a staring contest with a Slime.

"This."

She tapped a few buttons on her omni-tool and activated the file.

" _Seekers of the Truth!"_ Boomed a deep, raspy voice. " _Hear me!"_

The video file was showing multiple perspectives of the same Turian, clad in dark blue armour. A human woman with a white lab coat, spectacles and red hair stood by his side. They stood on a floating platform, positioned in what looked like a hangar bay or something the like.

" _The humans have unveiled something of paramount importance. An undamaged Prothean Beacon, which will show us the way to the Conduit."_

" _And through the Conduit, the return of the Reapers,"_ the woman stated, like she was merely forecasting the weather.

" _And the Reapers in turn shall usher in the return of the Goddess! There can be no failure, so I will lead this mission personally. In a few moments, the attack plans will be downloaded to your memory cores. Embrace them, and prepare!"_

Tali tapped another button, and the video file cut off. It was replaced by a holographic display of Eden Prime, together with positions of the major military outposts and defensive platforms. "These are the invasion plans," she hesitantly said. "I think."

"That's it!" Proclaimed Anderson. "Undeniable proof that the Initiative is involved!"

A dark look crossed Akuma's face when Anderson mentioned that name, though Udina showed no signs of recognition.

"I was under the impression that a rogue Turian General was responsible, Captain Anderson. Also, I must say that this is hardly undeniable. Elaborate, yes, but the Council will still want to observe it closely. It might be forged."

"Ehm…emissary Udina?" Kaidan carefully said. "We can cross-reference their plan of attack with our own encounters and scans."

"Those assassins after her skin seemed real enough to me," added Wrex. "Why send assassins to prevent a _fake_ from leaking?"

Lilim thought it odd that everybody was so focused on the technical aspect of the footage. She met Akuma's eyes, and saw the ambassador was greatly disturbed by what she had heard. Now Lilim didn't consider herself very young, but she was still a juvenile when compared to Akuma. And from the looks of it, Akuma knew a lot more than she let on.

Her own mother had told her to never ignore the details as they were. "I am more concerned about the contents of the evidence than its reliability. Conduit? Reapers? _Goddess_?" She paused to let that sink in.

Udina cocked an eyebrow. "That? That is the General taking a page from the dictator's handbook, using religious superstitious to get what he wants."

"Emissary, respectfully, one does not indoctrinate androids into becoming religious crusaders. Why would they regard him with awe?"

"If I may?" Said Akuma. "I believe it would be wise to first present this to the Council. It is obvious that these are important military matters, which are no matters of discussion in a place of politics."

"I agree," replied Anderson. "We get Saren, get the Chief and find the other candidate, then call in a meeting with the Council."

"If these are discreet military matters, I must ask the aliens to take their leave," Udina brusquely said. "This matter is too sensitive now."

"Desolas will keep trying to kill her," said Lilim. "Letting her walk would be a death sentence."

Tali nervously fidgeted when she said that.

"The girl may stay in the Embassies for protection," said Akuma. "Until an official case against General Desolas can be made."

Udina tapped a few buttons on his omni-tool. "Done. Miss Ser'aphim, if you will excuse me, I must make an emergency appointment with the Council."

Wrex shrugged. "Guess my job is done. I'll let myself out."

Garrus watched the Krogan leave, then turned towards the Commander. "Ma'am? Shepard, was it? I'm not sure it's my place to talk about it, but if assassins are involved, I want to tag along."

Akuma raised an eyebrow at that comment. "People hired to kill other people are involved, so you want to be present?"

"That's right, yeah."

"I am a Spectre candidate, Garrus. The Council might just see reason and send me after Desolas. Is this a long-term offer?"

"What, with those odds?" His mandibles clicked with excitement. "Definitely!"

~0~

* * *

 **One hour later**

 **Council Chambers**

The Master Chief and Saren Arterius marched towards the cavernous Council Chamber side by side, passing by one guard after another as they moved to join the others.

"Remember," Saren growled under his breath. "It never happened."

"I thought we agreed it wouldn't be brought up again."

"Just to be sure, Spartan."

Neutralizing an enemy sniper had been one thing. Moderately successful, not so much collateral damage. All in all, it had gone by smoothly. However, hunting down and capturing the other Black Fang Arachnes had _not_ gone smoothly.

One of the present Spectres, the Asari called Tela Vasir, spotted them and quickly approached them. "Saren, Master Chief, you two are expected. Follow me." She turned away, halted, then turned back again. "Saren, what's that stuff on your arm-"

"Nothing," Saren was quick to say.

"It's…it's on you as well, Master Chief. Looks sticky."

"It's nothing," John was quick to say.

"Are you sure? Might look weird during the ceremony…"

"It's nothing!" John and Saren asserted at the same time. When Tela shrugged and joined the rest of the guards again, the two of them exchanged a brief look before moving towards the petitioning platform.

" _So this is the heart of galactic civilization? The home of the big people? Hmm…looks cosy."_

Those weren't the words the Chief would use. The Council Chamber existed out of four tier, including the narrow hallway they just came from. It was the fourth tier where all the action happened; the Council stood across a wide gap in the floor, directly before the vast windows that looked out over the Serpent Nebula. The members of the Council stood on pedestals overlooking the other tiers, looking at the video footage that was being played.

Not by Captain Anderson or ambassador Ser'aphim.

By doctor Halsey and Captain Keyes.

The Chief felt a strange flutter in his stomach when he saw the two standing there, straight out of the Covenant theatre into the heart of the Citadel. He resisted the urge to salute, and instead took his position in-between the two while Saren joined the other Spectres.

"Captain Keyes, doctor Halsey."

The Captain looked at him and smiled. "Master Chief. Good to see you, son."

The Chief wanted to ask why they were here, but decided against it. "Likewise, sir.'

" _And through the Conduit, the return of the Reapers,"_ the redhaired woman in the footage spoke, looking more bored than anything else.

A stark contrast to the Turian standing next to her, who was holding a passionate speech to an army of assembled Geth. " _And the Reapers in turn shall usher in the return of the Goddess! There can be no failure, so I will lead this mission personally. In a few moments, the attack plans will be downloaded to your memory cores. Embrace them, and prepare!"_

"This constitutes the UNSC's part of the proof in the case against General Desolas Arterius," said doctor Halsey. Her voice was calm, just like always, but the Chief couldn't help of be reminded of that fateful day when she had revealed the existence of the Covenant to them. "We would like to give Councillor Sparatus the word. Two of our best soldiers managed to prevent an assassination attempt on his person. The surviving assassin revealed that he was working for Desolas Arterius as well."

The Asari and Salarian Councillor gestured to Sparatus, who nodded.

"General Desolas's actions of blackmail and intimidation in an attempt to escalate the First Contact between the UNSC and the Turian Hierarchy have been documented and handled within this Council," Sparatus said, crossing his arms behind his back. "His actions then, combined with his actions on Eden Prime, leave no room for hesitation."

"This evidence is irrefutable as well, doctor, Captain," said Councillor Valern.

"Indeed. Desolas will be stripped-"

" _Just to fill you in, Johnson just arrived,"_ said Cortana. " _And the UNSC has just taken the Black Fang members into custody. What will happen to them next, will be decided after this hearing."_

"Good."

"-and all efforts will be made to see him answer for his crimes."

"It is the other voice in the recording that concerns the UNSC so greatly," Doctor Halsey then said. "The woman. We know her as Promestein, a scientist specialized in biological engineering and genetics."

"That sounds troubling."

" _Promestein…"_ said Cortana. " _Interesting. ONI seems very keen on keeping details about her classified. Nothing I can find until I can get access to more official UNSC hardware, but from I have right here, she used to e involved with ONI."_

"Then why reveal her name in public like that?" Asked the Chief.

" _To discredit her, I assume."_

"I am more interested in the these 'Reapers'. What do we know about them?" Asked Councillor Valern.

"Only what was extracted from the memory core. The Reapers are supposed to be an ancient race of sentient machines that committed genocide on your precursor race, the Protheans. We have no evidence to support these claims, and plenty of evidence to discredit it."

"But do we know what this Conduit is? It seems to be Desolas's mission."

"We don't know," Said Captain Keyes. "But one thing is sure. If Desolas wants it, so do we."

"Indeed," Said Sparatus. "Sound military thinking, considering the prevalence of superweapons in this galaxy. However…"

"However," Joined Tevos, "We cannot advise the UNSC to send in a fleet after Desolas into the Traverse."

The Chief could see why. They had yet to recover from the Human-Covenant war, on literally all fronts. Economically, industrially, military, everything had to be rebuilt. Toss in the war with the Batarians and the fact that the Terminus Systems contained dozens of organizations that were itching to take a piece of UNSC-controlled space and you had a very disadvantageous position.

"Can we expect the Council to send their fleet in to support us?" Asked Keyes.

The three Councillors exchanged a look.

"A fleet cannot track down one man," said Valern. "It would only spark a war with the Terminus systems. A war is the last thing any of us want."

Johnson joined the Master Chief, as did Shepard.

"Out of the frying pan," muttered the Elder Devil. "Where have you been?"

"There may be another option," said Tevos. "Which brings us to the Spectre candidacy."

Valern rubbed his chin in thought. "Hmm…maybe."

"Sergeant Major Johnson, Commander Shepard and Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan-117, please step forwards."

" _Oh boy,_ " said Cortana. " _Here we go."_

The Chief didn't respond. Together with Johnson and Shepard, he stood rigid and at attention.

"Spectres are not trained, but chosen," Said Sparatus. "And we face a difficult decision. The three of you have proven to be excellent soldiers, but are you capable agents?"

"It is the decision of the Council that you three be granted the powers and privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel, temporarily," explained Tevos.

Temporarily?

Valern sighed. "General Desolas is at large within the Attican Traverse. The first candidate to take him down will have, without a doubt, proven him or herself worthy of the permanent title of Spectre."

It was an unprecedented outcome, which resulted in quite a lot of murmurs and whispers from those who had attended the meeting. The Chief saw Shepard frown and Johnson huff. He saw doctor Halsey and Captain Keyes look at each other with inscrutable expressions, and he saw Valern scowl after making that announcement.

"General Desolas Arterius is now your responsibility," said Sparatus. "There will be ample support, but the burden is yours to bear." He hesitated, then added, "Good luck, Spectres."

"The meeting of this Council is adjourned," Tevos ended the gathering. After that statement, the crowd disbanded, the Councillors left and the three 'Spectres' were left standing there, with not a small amount of confusion.

"Looks like we're competing. Again," Johnson eventually broke the silence. "Best of luck. You too, Commander."

Shepard smiled. "May the best candidate win, no?"

The Master Chief shook his head and glanced at Halsey. Was _this_ what she meant by a victory? Was this what the UNSC had planned? A dangerous terrorist on the run and they planned a _competition?_

"Master Chief," said Keyes. "If you could join us?"

The Spartan nodded and made his way to the Captain. "Permission to speak freely?"

Keyes smiled. "You're a Spectre now, Master Chief. You outrank me."

Outranking Keyes? The Chief frowned. He wasn't sure he liked that. "They didn't mention the Initiative."

"They didn't," said doctor Halsey. "And for now, it would be wise if we didn't either."

More secrecy. "Acknowledged. So what happens now?"

"You'll need a ship, John. Weapons, supplies…"

"The _Normandy?"_ Asked the Chief.

Captain Keyes shook his head. "No, Chief. Captain Anderson will be handing the _Normandy_ to Commander Shepard. You'll need something else. The good doctor here has received permission to reveal your ship."

"Respectfully sir, I can't pilot a warship on my own. I'll need a crew, a team…"

The Spartan cut himself off when he noticed the way doctor Halsey and Captain Keyes kept looking at him as he spoke. Almost amused, as if he had said something funny. "Is something wrong, ma'am? Sir?"

Doctor Halsey cocked an eyebrow. "The Office decided that the threat Desolas Arterius poses, must not be underestimated. You will have the best warship Captain available to you."

The penny dropped. "Captain. I won't disappoint you."

"Hell, I know you won't. Come along now, son. We've got quite a sight to show you."

As the three of them joined a security team and left the Presidium, it finally dawned on the Chief just what had transpired. He'd been made a Spectre, temporarily, along with Johnson and Shepard. The fate of millions hung in the balance and the Council was forcing them to compete together? It didn't make sense.

And it wasn't just the Council. Something fishy was going on, and the Office of Naval Intelligence was involved as well.

" _Congratulations, Chief,"_ Cortana said, shaking him from his thoughts. They had taken one of the rapid transports to a docked UNSC Prowler, which in turn would take them to a classified location. " _Straight from ending one megalomaniac to hunting down another one!"_

"It feels surreal," he replied. "How come they didn't mention the Initiative at all? Nobody would believe Desolas acted on his own."

" _I have the funny feeling we'll find out eventually"_

"You won't have access to your former team," doctor Halsey suddenly said. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm sorry. We might be able to arrange something in the future, but right now, all other Spartans are occupied on their own missions."

"Blue team," he started.

"Fred leads them now."

The Chief nodded. "Good," he said. Fred-104 was a tactical and strategically-sound leader. If the choice had been his, he would have picked Fred as well.

" _But_ …that doesn't mean you won't get a team. You must understand the severity of this threat, John. If Desolas, the Initiative and Promestein are working together…I really doubt a conventional war would stop them."

"May I make a request, ma'am?"

Halsey nodded. "Of course."

"I'd like for Corporal Victorias and Lieutenant Lucifinae to be transferred to whatever ship I'll end up on."

He could have sworn that he saw the doctor smirk. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Both of them are excellent combatants. Versatile and skilled. They will be useful."

Why did she think that so amusing?

Keyes scraped his throat. "They're all yours, Chief. It's your decision."

" _Sure it is…oh, and Chief? That Arachne you took in, Rachnera? The USNC wants to detain her on one of their own colonies. You could use the new ship to transport her there."_

He wasn't sure he liked that idea. "We're going to take down an alien conspiracy and known terrorist. How does ferrying prisoners fit in?"

" _Because having a self-proclaimed member of a notorious organization in captivity is useful? Because we can prevent her from escaping if it comes to it? Because you can possibly interrogate her and learn why she was so interested in capturing you alive?"_

"If you put it like that…"

The Prowler that was transporting them to his new ship slowed down. The pilot tapped the thrusters and the tiny craft rolled.

Then, the ship came into view. From this distance, its distinctive form and tapered nose suggested it was a Destroyer. Still, it wasn't any Destroyer he had seen before It was darker, much darker, to the point that it was hard to make out anything but its general form.

In that regard, it reminded him more of a Prowler

"Master Chief," said doctor Halsey, "welcome to the UNSC _Reach_ , the UNSC's second _Konstantin-_ Class Destroyer, a stealth ship rated for combat."

A stealth Destroyer…a Destroyer capable of stealth. The Prowler-class ships with their light-bending technology were notoriously hard to spot even for Covenant vessels. A Destroyer-Class warship with the same stealth tactics?

The Chief couldn't even begin to imagine what a ship like this could have done during the Human-Covenant war.

 _Those willing to entertain the idea of a Spartan as a Spectre have already supplied those._

"You knew this would happen," John told Halsey. He tried not to sound accusing. "Cortana knew too. Why hide it?"

"That's not a discussion for today," the doctor replied, eyeing the Prowler's crew. ONI, most likely. "Move us closer."

They moved a hundred meters and circled to starboard. The armoured ports were heavily reinforced, almost solid Titanium A alloy. The round covers of the Archer missile pods were scattered around the section, honeycombed throughout the frame. The Chief knew that each pod contained dozens of high-explosive missiles each, but how many pods did the _Reach_ have?

"Captain, if you will?" Said doctor Halsey.

"Reminds me of the first time I saw the _Autumn..._ the _Reach's_ point defence network is different from most warships. It utilizes mass effect to fire 30mm railgun projectiles. The cannons can lay down rounds with a cyclic rate of 5,000 rounds per minute, but as they're twin-linked…"

The Chief imagined a squadron of Seraphs flying straight into a literal storm of 30mm railgun rounds fired at 10,000 rounds per minute. Again, how differently would the war with the Covenant had gone if the UNSC had encountered the Citadel races a decade earlier?

The Prowler returned to the port side and drifted towards the shuttle bay. On their way there, the Chief saw the linear accelerator system for the ship's dual MAC gun. "What can you tell me about the MAC?"

"It's been outfitted with mass effect technology as well. The main gun fires on two modes; the Main Cycle and the Full Cycle. In Main Cycle Mode, the MAC fires normally." The Captain paused. "However, in Full Cycle Mode, the mass effect core, positioned near the fusion reactor, lowers the shell's effective mass. The recharge speed goes down, the yield goes up. It drains the fusion generator a lot, so manoeuvrability as well as stealth will be compromised during the Full Cycle."

The Chief nodded, seeing how such a weapon warranted careful consideration. "Standard shells?"

"Several types. Kinetic penetrators, mostly. Simple superharded Tungsten Carbide, or a metal-ceramic metal matrix composite. The latter has superior penetrating properties, but is a lot more expensive."

"But they level the playing field?"

The Captain crossed his arms behind his back and looked at the _Reach_ again. "Definitely."

Doctor Halsey glanced at the viewscreen and then sighed. "I wish we could spend more time discussing the nature of your mission, John, but there are matters that I must attend to. The mission is yours now."

The tiny Prowler docked with the Destroyer. The Chief stood and the Captain took his duffel bag. Together, they stepped onto the flight deck.

One of the crew was already there to meet them. She was outfitted with the standard Marine airforce BDU, without a helmet. The Chief's HUD identified her as a Flight Captain.

The woman saluted. "Welcome aboard, Captain Keyes, Master Chief."

Keyes saluted her as well. "Good to see you, Flight Captain."

John looked the woman over, confident that he had heard her voice before. That cheerful, nonchalant manner of speaking.

Then it hit him. "Foehammer."

A slight grin played over her features. "So you _do_ remember me. At your service, Master Chief."

The Spartan saluted her as well. During the Battle of Installation 04, she had been an invaluable ally. The countless times she had saved their tails, the countless times she had flown her bird into heavy fire to deliver warthogs, supplies and marines, she had been one of the reasons why the USNC presence on Halo hadn't been annihilated during the first day.

He was thankful to have her on the team.

"What about the rest of the crew?" The Spartan asked as they walked towards the elevator, leaving Foehammer to tinker with her Pelican.

"Your mission isn't exactly top-secret anymore, Master Chief. This has gotten too public, the Office can't micro-manage everything we do. They don't like that."

"I'll bet." He had come to understand that the people at ONI were divided. That didn't wouldn't work out well in the future.

"The rest of my crew has been granted permission to come aboard as well. They're…competent."

The Spartan picked up on the hesitation there. 'Something I should know?"

Keyes grimaced. "They're eccentric. They…might take some getting used to. You'll meet them soon enough."

The elevator stopped at D deck. When the doors opened and the of them walked outside, however, Cortana's digital form appeared at one of the nearby terminals.

"Captain Keyes," she said, smiling warmly.

"Cortana. Good to see you again. Thanks for keeping an eye on him."

She chuckled. "The pleasure was mine. Chief? While you were onboard the Prowler, someone sent you a message."

He raised an eyebrow underneath his helmet. "Why didn't I get it?"

"Because I jammed it. The sender made it obvious that he'd been following you towards the Prowler, and I didn't want to expose them." She paused, met the Captain's eyes, then smirked. "Yet."

"Someone from the Initiative?" Keyes said, adopting a serious tone. "Another assassin?"

"No, and no. In fact, it was the Master Chief's new BFF."

"My what?"

"I…beg your pardon, Cortana?"

"I'm talking about Saren Arterius, Desolas's brother. The Spectre who's been trying to put a stop to the Initiative before it was cool?"

The Chief could already feel a headache coming up. "What about him?"

"He wanted to congratulate you on your success, and asked for a position aboard your new ship."

"He asked for a position?"

"Demanded, really. He wants to be there when you inevitably grab his brother by the fringe."

'No," the Chief immediately said.

Keyes gave him a look. "A Turian Spectre with more motivation to take down Desolas than you sounds like a good ally, Master Chief."

Accepting the help of Garrus Vakarian had been one thing. That was temporary, unofficial. Accepting Saren aboard a classified UNSC stealth vessel was something completely different.

The Chief couldn't shake his training off, couldn't ignore his _instincts._ Saren was an alien, aliens were hostile.

Even though Saren had proved an invaluable ally during the search for evidence. That went as far back as Eden Prime, where he had helped escort the team back to the _Normandy_ when _he_ had been unconscious

He turned towards Keyes. "Sir. I'm not permitted to allow aliens on UNSC assets, am I?"

"Actually, you aren't part of the UNSC chain of command like you used to be. If it helps you complete the mission, you can accept him."

"Besides; it never stopped you from taking the Arbiter along on your missions," added Cortana.

"I'll think it over," the Chief eventually replied. One loose cannon in the form of Dracosa was difficult enough. Saren was disciplined alright, but would he be able to follow orders?

He guessed time would tell.

~0~

* * *

 **UNSC Embassy**

Lilim leant back in her chair, watching emissary Udina chat away with ambassador Ser'aphim. How the two of them ever got any work done, she had no idea. There was always another person with a request, or a question, or a diabolically-political problem to dispatch of. Even when those were all out of the way, they just sat there, talking.

Glaringly obvious, of course, even with Anderson there. David was discussing the next step with Udina, now that the UNSC had not one, but _three_ Spectres on a mission of vital importance. Lilim had been certain that Udina would have to change his pants after that meeting; the excitement of getting his wish three times over would certainly have caused a little accident.

The Elder Devil was shaken out of her thoughts when someone walked up to her. "C-Commander? Commander Shepard?"

"Hmm…yes?"

It was the Quarian girl they'd saved from Desolas's men. Tali'Zorah. She was nervous, just like before, but she also seemed to have made up her mind about something. "I…heard you became a Spectre. That they're sending you out to arrest Desolas Arterius."

Shepard sighed. It hadn't taken long for that knowledge to become public…"That is right."

"I want to join you!"

"You what?"

"I was thinking, I could help. I could help you fight Desolas."

Shepard blinked. For a second, she was staring at a gun held in the arms of a six-year-old, surrounded by ruins and gunfire. "Sweetheart…you are a _child_. You do not belong on the battlefield."

Tali took her time replying. When she did, her voice was filled with empathy. "The things that the evidence showed about Desolas? What he'd try to do? He is a threat to _everyone_ , not just me, or humanity. I don't want to sit by and watch others fight a war again."

"Tali…we are soldiers. You're a civilian. Besides; you have your own life to live."

"My pilgrimage?"

"Yes."

"Oh, it can wait." Upon seeing the Elder Devil's surprised expression, Tali explained, "The pilgrimage is a rite of passage, proving that we are willing to prioritize the greater good above our individual lives. If that Turian is looking for a weapon of some sort, there is no saying what he will do."

"And you believe other races are part of the greater good?" Asked Shepard.

"Yes," she replied, without as much as a hint of hesitation.

She could appreciate that. "I have yet to fully build a team…but this is still a military operation, and the galaxy is a dangerous place."

"I know," replied Tali. "Many of my people worked in the shipyards at Reach."

"Then you know how risky it is. You'd get in our way."

She lowered her head when Lilim told her that. Then, as if realizing something, she suddenly raised her head and said, "I'm an engineer. A really good one. If you give me a tube of metal, some circuits and scraps, I'll have it headshotting Geth."

A mechanic…they were going up against an army of robots; having a member of the race who created them aboard would be very helpful. It might give her an edge over Johnson and the Master Chief, even.

A second later, she discarded that thought, disgusted by the implications. She wasn't going to sit back and bring children into this. "It's too dangerous."

"What if Desolas wins? Had the Covenant won, we wouldn't be here." She was glaring at Shepard from underneath her faceplate, glaring with piercing eyes the likes of which she hadn't seen in a _long_ time. "Being with you is as safe as anywhere else.

"The first one who brings the General in, will be made a permanent Spectre," replied Lilim. "We might need to take risky manoeuvres."

"I'm a _Quarian_ ," Tali breathlessly replied. "We patch things up after risky."

Lilim sighed. Even with the faceplate covering her features and the alien body language, she could still tell that the girl was sincere and motivated. To her, that was equally as important as having combat skills. She was, after all, a sincere believer in the idea that the will of one person could change the universe. "Fine."

"What?"

This girl wouldn't end up like them. She would make _sure_ of that. "I said, fine. Take your gear, say your goodbyes, and you're on."

Tali pulled a bag from behind her. "Done! When are we leaving?"

Lilim shrugged, then shot a look at Akuma. The ambassador met her eyes and smiled. "Donnel? David? Are you two done?"

"Of course we are," Udina immediately said, much to Anderson's surprise.

"We are?"

"If we're needed, David, we're _always_ done," Udina said, nodding at the Captain as if he were laying down absolute law.

Anderson looked at Akuma, then snorted. "Sure. Commander? We think we have a ship for you and your crew. You should go out and start gathering supplies. Meet us at the docking bay in an hour."

"Of course sir. Any particular supplies I should get?"

"Guns, Commander," Udina said, displaying a remarkable mindset for a politician. "Lots of guns."

"Then I shall be on my way. Come, Tali."

"Uhm…to where?"

Shepard made her way towards the exit, with the young Quarian in tow. "First, we are going to pick up one of your teammates. Then, we will instruct our _other_ two teammates to gather supplies. After that? We'll see."

As they left the embassies to head towards C-Sec academy, Lilim called Ashley and Kaidan to give them instructions about what supplies they should buy. In the meantime, Tali was trying to get a look at just about everything they encountered. Lacking the additional two pairs of eyes she would need for such a task, she missed a lot.

"Commander?" She eventually asked. "Is it true that all Monster species evolved on your homeworld?"

"Liminal species, Tali," corrected Lilim. "Monster is rude."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't to be rude. I just…this is my first time in Council space, and I've never even _been_ to the UNSC's space. It's all so new!"

"So you've never seen Liminal species before?"

"Not before today, no. Well, some I did. Mostly on the extranet. You are the first…Liminal species…I've ever seen."

Lilim smirked. "Then you have an interesting time ahead of yourself, Tali."

They reached the elevator that would ferry them from the Presidium to C-SEC Academy, and stepped aboard. It was a long, _long_ ride down, and now that the Quarian had gotten over her initial apprehension and nerves, it became clear that she was filled to the brim with questions.

"What about magic? Is that real?"

"The concept? Yes. In reality?"

"In reality?" Whispered Tali.

"Yes."

"Really? Actual, working magic?"

"It depends on your view Not every Liminal considers it magic."

"But it defies our understanding of science?"

Lilim shrugged. "Pretty much. Several Liminal species are in contact with the afterlife-

" _What?"_

"-that's been verified, but scientists think it's more of a different dimension than an actual spiritual plain of existence. Then again, nature spirits can control the elements and some Liminals can resuscitate the dead, so…I think it depends on the Quarian concept of magic, Tali. Tali?"

The Quarian stood against the back of the elevator, quivering. "I think I need to lie down…"

Needless to say, when they reached C-SEC Academy, Lilim started looking for Garrus Vakarian on her own. Luckily, she didn't need to look far. Garrus was standing near the elevator to the Docking Bay, with several bags of belongings guns.

He stood a few paces away from Urdnot Wrex, who only had one bag of belongings, most of it _being_ his guns.

"Oh dear," she said, approaching the two aliens. "Who are you working for this time?"

"You," growled the Krogan.

Lilim raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

His scarred lips formed into a smile. "Way I see it, this competition-thing's gonna be real fun. But the Chief's got himself an advantage. Figure you could use one as well."

"Is that so?" She shot a look at Garrus, who became very interested in his own boots all of a sudden. "I do not think I have the _budget_ for such an advantage."

"Don't worry 'bout a thing. This one's on me."

"Oh?" A Krogan mercenary who fought for free? Now there was something that warranted her attention. "Are you so concerned about the fate of the universe as Tali over there is?"

The Krogan chuckled with his deep, booming voice. "I don't give two shits about the universe. I wanna where the action is. Three Spectres on their own, hunting down a member of the most secret organization you've never heard of? Now _that_ sounds fun."

Lilim glared at Garrus. " _Secret_ secret organizations, Garrus. Now then…Wrex, was it? You should know that this is still a military mission. You fight, according to _my_ rules."

"Sure."

Somewhat suspicious that the Krogan mercenary simply agreed to that, the Elder Devil continued. "We function as a team. A team which _I_ lead. If you work with us, you will find the galaxy to be very kind to you."

"But?"

Lilim took a step towards the Krogan, smiling at him as she did. "But _cross_ us, or deliberately sabotage us, I will make you wish you've never been born."

Garrus groaned loudly, Tali gasped under her breath and the various officers around them became very, very quiet.

But Wrex merely chuckled. "You Demons sure know how to threaten someone. Simply telling someone you'll _kill_ them is a lot easier."

"I didn't say anything about _killing_."

He stared at her for a few moments, before breaking into laughter. "Now _that's_ the spirit! When are we leaving?"

Somewhat disappointed at his lack of concern, Lilim replied, "Little under an hour. And it's Devil, not Demon."

"Why's that matter?"

 _Because I haven't earned the right_. "Because exceedingly _few_ people have ever _earned_ that title, and I'm not one of them."

Wrex seemed surprised at that. "Oh. Well, why's that?"

Lilim rolled with her eyes. The Krogan had _no_ idea…"Just find yourself a supplier. We will follow emissary Udina's advice, and procure guns."

"How many?"

"A _lot_."

~0~

* * *

 **Docking bay 69**

Sergeant Major Avery Junior Johnson looked at the massive ship that was docked with the exterior docking bay, then looked back at the woman who was going to pilot her. At that very moment, he considered himself the luckiest man in the galaxy.

"You'll be competing with the Master Chief himself. I've looked up Commander Lilim Shepard, She's no slouch either, Johnson."

"Don't worry about a thing ma'am. Between the three of us, that General is cooked."

She smiled at him, brushing a strand of black hair behind her ear. "Good to hear that. So, shall we go over her?"

"Go ahead."

"The UNSC _Balmung,_ a _Halcyon -_ Class Light Cruiser, moderately refitted. The structural system - designed by a Dr. Robert McLees in 2510 – used to be deemed unnecessarily overmassed and costly due to series of cross-bracings and interstitial honeycombs. Just like the _Autmn_ dad used to command, she's virtually indestructible. The MAC has yet to be upgraded with mass effect technology, but the gun has magnetic field recyclers along the length that recapture the field energy."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning the shot will impact with over three-hundred kilotons of TNT. Recharging takes a while, but this ship has enough Archer missile pods to make up for that."

The Sergeant Major nodded. He could appreciate good firepower. "What do you think, ma'am?"

She gave him an annoyed look. "That you should stop calling me 'ma'am'. You're a Spectre now, Johnson. This time, _I_ answer to _you_."

"Alright then, _ma'am_ ," he continued. "What do you think."

Miranda sighed, but Johnson caught a hint of a smile on her face. "It won't catch up to the _Normandy_ , and I doubt they'll give the Chief something this big, but between you and me? It would take a Covenant fleet to stop us."

"Good."

Avery was in the presence of the toughest, most cigar-filled Cruiser in Citadel Space and Commander Miranda Keyes, but at that very moment, he was very sure he could do without the former, while the latter was simply irreplaceable.

He handed the Commander a datapad. "Now to crew that bad girl, we're gonna need a crew. And I already have some people in mind."

She went through the names he had noted on the datapad in several seconds, frowning as she did. "That's a…diverse choice."

"Damn right it is. If our enemy is going to be messing with pseudo-magic mumbo-jumbo, _we're_ gomnna mess with pseudo-magic mumbo-jumbo!"

Miranda shook her head and handed the datapad back. "Anything you have in mind?"

"I've got a buddy who used to run with the Black Fang. She'll point us the right way."

Miranda gave him a mock salute. "Aye-aye, _Spectre_ Johnson."

Johnson heard her say it, he _saw_ her say it, but it didn't _process_ the way it was supposed to. To him, the rank was about much more than formality, and he was pretty damn sure which rank was the right one. But he'd send a petition to the Council to rectify that problem soon enough.

For now, he'd grab a cigar and build a team. Desolas was gonna know they were coming, but there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop them.

~0~

* * *

 **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: SPECIES: MANTICORES**

" _First discovered in 2345 on a distant colony, the Manticore is often considered a hybrid beast, having the body of a human, claws instead of hands and paws instead of feet, bat-like wings, and a tail equipped with a spiny lump of flesh at the end. Their claws are proportionally large compared to their body, and are thought to be used for battering and ripping open prey. Their wings are too small to grand them flight, but they are very capable of controlled gliding, allowing them to safely travel down from great heights._

 _It is their tail, however, which contains its most potent weapon. It is covered in poisonous spines, which can be fired at prey via a poorly-understood organic system. These projectiles are known to be able to penetrate body armour reinforced with Arachne silk._

 _Manticores are highly intelligent, with a cunning and cruel disposition. It is not certain what the limit to their physical abilities is, as they are not well documented, but it can be assumed that they are at least on par with the Sangheili race._

 _~0~_

* * *

 **AN:** _starting off roughly the same way the original Mass Effect did, but don't worry. Those who are sharp enough, can already see that we won't be following that particular storyline for long._

 _Anyway, it's been a while since I last updated, and I don't know if that trend will continue. I try to keep my personal life and my writing separated, but that's gotten a bit more difficult to do lately. Life influences my writing in a dozen ways and there isn't a whole lot I can do about that. And I know that, to people who are used to authors dropping their stories halfway through, this might look eerily familiar, so that's why I drop this disproportionally-long author's note here. I'm not planning on stopping, so don't worry about that._


	14. 2,3: Daily life on a Matriarch's mission

_~0~_

* * *

 _ **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: GOVERMENT: ROYALTY**_

 _In the multi-cultural society of the modern Unified Earth Government, not every colony follows the same system through which the state or community is controlled. It is estimated that seventy percent of the colonies are part of the UEG. Twenty percent is governed in a different manner, while the remaining ten percent consists of organizations and communities like the Insurrection, the Black Fang and the Templar Order._

 _Royalty denotes those who are in a royal position or authoritative power. As kings or queens, they lead their group and maintain control, but are also fully responsible for their people. There is a difference between the royalties of humans and royalties of Liminals. The Humans' leaders are chosen on birth. Their position is hereditary, whereas Liminals choose their leaders based on their power. In addition, the leaders of humans rule over provinces and regions, whereas Liminal queens, or the rare kings, rule a section of a single race._

 _Additionally, Liminal Queens and Kings do not always assume a position of power. They may simply continue on with their daily life, or use the community's acceptance of their physical or political prowess for other, lesser pure reasons._

 _In the galactic community, Liminal Queens are often compared to Asari Matriarchs, in terms of experience, wisdom or martial prowess._

~0~

* * *

 **09:35 Hours, January 24** **th** **, 2549 (Military Calendar) / UNSC** _ **Reach**_

 **Docked to the Citadel**

Take a girl out shopping, they'd told her. It'd be fun, they'd told her…

Miia was rummaging around the shops in the lower Wards, searching for medical supplies and ammo for their coming missions. The people down in the Markets didn't get a lot of Liminal visitors, so they caught plenty of weird looks. Now, that alone wouldn't have been a problem for her. Miia had nothing to be ashamed of after all, and she was quite confident she could hold her own when an alien harassed her.

No, it was her shopping buddy who was making her somewhat nervous.

"Quit staring back," Miia told Corporal Draco, who had spotted a creepy Krogan leaning against a wall at the other side of the room. "They don't like that."

Of course, little miss Dragon didn't listen. Didn't even bother replying. She just _leered_ right back at that Krogan, giving off the impression that she was figuring out how best to kill him, or how best to _eat_ him.

Knowing how Dragons went about their business, it was probably a bit of both. Miia didn't know a lot about her new teammate, safe for her actions during the Human-Batarian war. It was one of the main reasons why she'd taken the girl with her. To talk to her, to get to know her, like teammates were supposed to do.

That was the _plan_ , at least.

The Salarian behind the counter noticed her eyeing his goods. "Hey there. Looking for supplies?"

"Actually, yes," replied Miia. "I'm looking for ammo mods for UNSC gear."

"Hmm…difficult to get, mods for UNSC gear. I have some Shotgun ammo, though. Favourite ammo for Krogan."

"For Krogan? Like, to be used _against_ Krogan or to be used _by_ Krogan?"

"Both, both! Krogans like the punch, helps them kill other Krogan. You hunting Krogan?"

Miia looked over her shoulder at the Krogan standing right there in the room with them. "No…we're hunting ehm…mechs."

"Mechs?"

"Yup. Synthetic guards, you know? Big, heavily armoured, lots of shields."

"Ah, ah! Mechs! Yes, yes, solid shotgun slug excellent for hunting mechs!"

Miia wasn't sure she trusted this alien's expertise. He felt like the type of guy who'd claim these shotgun slugs could solve indigestion if properly applied. Still, the Master Chief had given her the order to gather supplies, so that was she would do. "What kind of slugs are we talking about?"

He pulled out a box. A UNSC ammo box. Great.

On the upside, it guaranteed good quality.

On the downside…he had a damn _UNSC_ box _._ "Where did you get that?"

"Ah-ah-ah! Buyer's secret!"

"…that's not how it works."

"…these solid slug rounds come in two varieties. One with an armour-piercing tip and an incendiary one. The specifications are printed _there_."

Miia sighed. The ammo was legit. They could use legit ammo. "Fine, I'll take them. How much do they cost?"

Being a soldier wasn't the best-paying job in the galaxy. Sure, the dental care was fine and all, but saving for retirement was a pain. Still, she had figured that hanging out with a Spectre allowed for a bigger _budget_ when it came to buying gear. They were going on a mission of galactic importance!

Well, she'd also thought that shopping with the new girl would be fun, and here she was, hoping that her teammate wouldn't _eat_ the Krogan.

Because, as it turned out, Spectres didn't get paid. At all. They were expected to buy all their own equipment, which had made for a _very_ awkward surprise when the Master Chief had discovered that.

Miia imagined how the Spartans had functioned if they had been forced to buy their own gear. Humanity would probably be down a few billion people had that been the case.

They'd probably find a way to fund themselves. Start a restaurant or something. But for now, Miia made sure she only bought what she absolutely needed.

"Come, Draco," she said after she wired the cash to the creepy Salarian. "We need to pick up the prisoner as well…"

The Dragon didn't budge an inch, so Miia reached out and took nudged her shoulder with the tip of her tail. "Come on."

She swore, had she not known about the girl's legendary service vitae, she would have thought there was something wrong with her head.

The two Liminals then made their way to C-SEC Academy, where their new prisoner was waiting for them.

Miia had been debriefed on the whole thing, and she had tried to put it behind her, but just thinking about it made her all mad again. Those Black Fang terrorists gave Liminals a bad name! And the Unified Earth Government was already pretty isolationist on its own, unity was their biggest asset!

That any Liminal would try to go after the Master Chief so shortly after the Human-Covenant War ended was almost unthinkable. Miia wouldn't forgive the Black Fang for that.

The prisoner was waiting for them at the C-SEC lobby. She was one of those creepy Arachnes, with the upper body of a young woman and the lower body of a large, black spider. She had her arms crossed over her ample chest, and didn't look worried at all. Her legs were slender, faintly reflecting the blue light of the Academy's lobby.

Miia looked her over, feeling somewhat nervous at the Arachne's presence. Her attire consisted out of a halter top that revealed a good deal of the lower half of her breasts and waist, with shoulder-less sleeves and a shirt.

"Lieutenant Lucifinae," Miia told the guard. He was looking somewhat nervous. Had he heard about the danger that Arachnes could pose to aliens? "We're with Spartan-117, the Spectre."

"One second, looking you up." The Turian walked over to a terminal and typed in a string of code. "Lieutenant, Corporal, with the Master Chief, verified." He gestured at his comrades, who stepped away from the Arachne. They kept their eyes on her the entire time, however, and they never quite let go of their triggers. "The prisoner's all yours."

They seemed to have cuffed her with flash-forged omni-cuffs. Her hands were tied together tightly, preventing her from attacking people with them. But Miia didn't miss how her legs were completely unsecured. She knew for a _fact_ that the Arachne could easily lash out with one of them and impale someone. Heck, she'd seen it happen during the Human-Batarian war.

She doubted it'd still be such a pretty sight when it happened to the good guys.

The Arachne shot them a look, then sighed. "Sending women to do his dirty work…some war hero."

Miia gritted her teeth, but ignored that remark. "Thanks. We'll take her from here."

"Be careful. She can still bite."

" _She_ has a name, you know," commented the Arachne.

Draco pulled her shotgun out and shoved her towards the elevator.

"Hey, what the hell? That hurt!"

"Corporal, cut that out," said Miia. She pressed the button and called the elevator. "She may be a terrorist, but she's still a person."

The Arachne shot her a look. "A terrorist? Don't make me laugh. The only reason _you_ can be called a soldier is because you're on the winning side."

Miia clenched her fists. "How about the fact that I _am_ a soldier, hmm? I was trained, I was _hired_. It's my job!"

A smile played over the Arachne's features, sly and cruel. "Hired by a military junta, you mean. Your UNSC took over control over the civilian state during the war. What does that make you?"

"That's crap," Miia shot back. "The UNSC only took over because we were losing people by the _billions._ "-

"Is that what they told you?" The Arachne chuckled and was about to say something when Draco marched towards the elevator, which finally arrived.

Perhaps realizing that not complying wouldn't be best of ideas, the Arachne climbed inside on her own. The elevator was barely big enough fit an Echidna, an Arachne and a Dragon at the same time and the damned thing still took _ages_ before it reached the dock. It made for a very awkward ride.

After about half a minute, they finally arrived at the docking bay. There, a Pelican Dropship was already waiting for them, with the troop bay still closed.

"There we go," Miia said, gesturing to the Dropship. "Get inside."

"No expenses spared, I see," she dryly said.

"Criminals don't get luxury," Miia bit at her, and that was it. Still, she kept a close eye on the prisoner, even as the Dropship accelerated away from the Citadel and into the dense nebula that surrounded the Citadel. If the Arachne decided that she wasn't going to be taken into custody, _this_ would be the best time to do so, and Miia knew it. She kept a close eye on the terrorist for the entire journey, ready to pull out her sidearm and shoot the woman should the situation demand it.

Fortunately, the Arachne didn't try anything. She just sat there, watching Miia in return.

" _We're coming up on the_ Reach, _"_ said the pilot. " _I'll send word to the Master Chief, tell him to prep the brig."_

"Copy that," replied Miia. "

She hadn't actually seen the UNSC _Reach_ yet. None of them had. On a top-secret mission like this one, it was vital that they remained at least somewhat secretive about it.

Which made it kind of weird that they'd bring a prisoner aboard, now that she thought about it…

But Miia kept that thought to herself. She wasn't one to second-guess orders.

A shudder ran through the ship as it docked with the _Reach_ , and the three of them stepped onto the flight deck. There were several single ships and Pelicans, and a disproportionally-large number of boxes and crates.

Miia felt a pang of disappointment. The flight deck looked…small. It wasn't anything special.

She had been on several ships classes in the past, and this flight deck just felt too small for a top-secret warship assigned to a Spartan-Spectre. The ship couldn't be much larger than a Frigate.

Then again, it made sense that the UNSC wouldn't send a large warship into the Terminus Systems. Their fleet was stretched thin as it was, fighting the Batarian Hegemony on multiple fronts. The last thing they needed was a swarm of pirates attacking their vulnerable colonies.

"Start unpacking the gear, Corporal," said Miia. "I'll take the prisoner to the brig and report to the Master Chief."

Most military vessels had a prison aboard their ship, more as a formality than anything else. Due to the high stakes of the Human-Covenant war, very few officers ever rebelled or mutinied against their CO's. Soldiers on the ground even less so. War had a tendency to unite people, after all, and no soldier would dare to even _dream_ of screwing over their brothers and sisters in arms.

But throughout the war, the UNSC continued to take prisoners instead of following the Covenant's example and killing every hostile they found, so they continued building brigs into their ships.

As Miia marched the Arachne towards the brig, spotting the occasional Marine hauling gear and unpacking crates, the Arachne suddenly said, "Why do you work with them?"

Miia frowned. "What, the UNSC?"

"Them, humans in general."

"For the same reason any Liminal signed up with the UNSC. To fight the Covenant and protect the ones we love. And to stop people like you, I suppose," she added.

"Yes, very noble. I'm sure the humans will repay you when everything is stable again. Unless they cave in under the Templars. Again."

"Templars…" Miia scoffed. Every Liminal worth their tail knew and despised that name. "They're just religious nutheads, a bunch of psychos. That's not what humanity is about."

"Ho? And does your UNSC share that point of view"

"That…"

"Do they undertake military operations against them like they do against the Black Fang? Or speak out against them in public?"

"At this point, half the UNSC _consists_ out of Liminals!" growled Miia. "The only reason we weathered the storm was because we worked together. Hell, humans and Liminals are dependent on each other by now, while you lot start shooting people because some colonies offer unequal payment!"

The Arachne snorted. "Where did you grow up, girl? Unequal payment for equal work is the _least_ of our concerns. Have you ever seen the lynch mobs, the government-sponsored violence? Five centuries after the public reveal of our races and _still_ the humans can't accept our existence."

"I'll judge that myself, without getting innocents involved."

"They'll get involved either way."

They reached the brig, and Miia was quick to open a cell and gesture the Arachne inside. "The Master Chief knows what he is doing. If you're smart, you stay out of trouble."

The woman sighed, but kept her remarks to herself. Miia closed the cell door and double-timed it to the bridge

~0~

* * *

The Chief rode the elevator to the bridge to meet his new crew, using the brief moment of respite he had to read up on the most recent developments. The ship had been stocked with supplies, ammo and weapons, and his transfer list had been processed by the UNSC. His current two teammembers had made it to the _Reach_ with the prisoner, and no incidents had been reported.

All in all, it seemed things were going smoothly.

" _I've intercepted a news broadcast, by the way. A Salarian genetics lab was raided just a few days ago. Several of their gene-mod banks have been emptied."_

The Chief snorted. "News broadcast?"

" _News broadcast, STG communications, what does it matter? Anyway, the culprit hasn't been found yet. Councillor Valern is pissed."_

"Why is that relevant?" He asked, even as the lift doors parted.

" _Because the people who would raid a Salarian genetics lab are most likely pirates, mercenaries or terrorists. Guess what we'll be facing in the Terminus Systems?"_

"Point taken." The Chief made a mental note to look into that theft and stepped on the rubberized deck. "Captain Keyes."

" _Ah, the memories."_

The Captain turned to face him, even as some of his crewmembers whirled around in their chairs and stared. They weren't used to seeing a Spartan in full MJOLNIR armour up close. The ghostly iridescent green of the armor plates and the matte black layers underneath made him look part gladiator, part machine. Or perhaps to the bridge crew, he looked as alien as the Citadel races.

"Master Chief. Meet the crew."

Of the various officers present on the bridge, two of them leapt to their feet and saluted. One of them was a woman of Asian descent, delicate-looking, but with a steel gaze that could put an Elite to shame. The other was a young man, tall and thin, with dark hair that was longer than the regulations allowed.

Four officers, all males, remained seated, staring at the Chief.

"Lieutenant Hikowa, sir," said the woman. "Weapons officer."

"Ensign William Lovell, sir," said the man. "Navigation officer."

Keyes nodded approvingly, then glanced at the other men. His gaze hardened. The Chief took it that these were the eccentric ones.

"Holy shit," one of them said, with an old-fashioned Earth-British accent, "That's the flipping Master Chief!"

"Don't be a moron, Gav," his nearest colleague whispered, before standing. "Lieutenant Jones, sir. Communications officer."

The others followed his example. A Second Lieutenant with an impressive, well-groomed moustache and a slightly-overweight Lieutenant with a beard that could make a Brute Chieftain think about his life choices. Ramsey and Pattillo, respectively.

That left the British officer, who hastily climbed to his feet, bashed his knee against the deck and nearly fell over again. "Ensign F-Free, sir!"

The Master Chief knew Hikowa and Lovell from the _Pillar of Autumn_. The crew had fought against overwhelming odds on Halo's surface, evading capture time and time again until a small strike force, led by Avery, had managed to save them.

They hadn't arrived in time to prevent the Covenant from getting their hands on the Captain, but that was where the Chief had stepped in.

"As you were," he told the crew, memorizing their faces and names. If Keyes said they were competent, they would be competent.

He felt the urge ask the Captain his next order, then reconsidered. He was a Spectre now. He was the one in charge, the one who made the decisions. Asking someone else would be a sign of weakness at this point.

"How long before the rest of the crew arrives at the Citadel?" He asked. The the bridge crew returned to their stations. The view screens showed the eerie pink nebula that surrounded the Citadel, as well as distant stars.

"It'll take them some time to ship them away from the battlefield. Getting them to the nearest Relay, then all the way to a rendezvous point within Council Space? That'll take at least a day or three."

Three days…the Chief sighed. Desolas might find and activate the Conduit in a week's time. The Turian was getting ready to point the metaphorical gun at the head of the universe, they didn't have time to wait for more crewmembers. "Do we have any leads on Desolas?"

"Desolas is gone. Looking for him is going to be a waste of time," replied the Captain. "But we know what his target is."

"The Conduit."

"Sir," said Ensign Free. "Receiving a forwarded message, from Matriarch Benezia."

The Captain frowned, then looked at the Chief, who realized that the officer had meant _him_. This was going to very confusing in the future.

"Play it."

Moments later, one of the screens blurred. The viewpoint of the colourful Nebula made place for the blue visage of an Asari, with bright eyes and a somewhat revealing outfit.

She didn't look that old to the Chief, but he knew that the Matriarch was at least twice as old as Shepard was. " _Spectres. I do not know if this might help you on your mission or not, but I require your assistance. My daughter, Liara T'soni, is a scientist and an archeologist. She specializes in the Protheans. Seeing as how General Arterius is looking for an ancient Prothean device, I feared he might turn his attention towards her."_

"Liara T'soni…" muttered the Chief. Asari could reproduce with most, if not all species out there, but the offspring would always be an Asari. To Desolas, getting his hands on a young Asari with knowledge of Prothean architecture seemed like a sound tactical action.

" _My fears, I believe, have come true. My daughter was leading an archeological expedition on Therum, in the Artemis Tau Cluster, when all communications suddenly ceased. I…Liara is very dear to me, Spectres, and it is not like her to refrain from contacting me. Something has happened, I know it."_ Her voice broke, if only for a moment, and her composure slipped. She took a second to calm herself. " _This…was a week ago. If you could diverge from your path to find her, and assure her safety, I would be very grateful."_

"It uhh…kind of stops there."

Cortana appeared from the nearby holotank, crossing her arms and staring at the frozen image of Matriarch Benezia. "Who forwarded that message?"

"The UNSC _Balmung,_ which has been docked to the Citadel for the past few days," replied Free.

The Chief looked at Keyes. "The _Balmung?"_

Keyes turned towards Free and said, "Cross-reference that name in the database, son. Who is the Commanding Officer?"

The helmsman quickly tapped in a string of commands, staring intently at the screen. "Ehm…you are, sir."

Around the Ensign, several of the crewmembers groaned with frustration.

"You're a goddamn idiot," said Jones.

"No," protested the Ensign, "It's right here! USNC _Balmung_ , Halcyon-Class Cruiser. Commanding Officer. Keyes, M."

"Miranda…" Keyes muttered under his breath, barely audible enough for the Chief to hear.

"That's a different Keyes, you moron!" Lieutenant Pattillo bit at his colleague.

"How was I supposed to know!"

"Aside from the fact that the Captain is _standing right here?_ "

"I'm detecting a secondary, encrypted message," Cortana suddenly said, silencing the bickering crew. "Playing it now."

After a brief moment of silence, the rough, boisterous voice of Avery Johnson played through the speakers. " _Chief, Commander. Nihlus just got a message from Matriarch Benezia. It's about her daughter, Liara something. I'm gonna be too busy to tackle this one, so I'm giving this one to you. She might know something about the Conduit. I'm guessing, the first one who gets to her, gets her expertise. So, good luck."_

At least now the Chief knew which vessel Johnson would be taking. A Halcyon-Class, just like the _Autumn_ had been. Somehow, it seemed fitting.

"Sir? An Asari expert on Prothean tech seems like an asset," said Ensign Lovell.

The Chief could see why that was the case. However, he was more interested by the fact that all communications on a UNSC outpost had ceased. As far as he knew, the Artemis Tau cluster lay in UNSC space. "How come the UNSC didn't hear about a colony going dark?"

"Therum's a small mining outpost, nothing official, sir," explained Hikowa. "There won't be a sizeable UNSC presence there."

That made sense, considering supposed the alien presence. Asari scientists working on UNSC soil weren't common. The isolationistic point of view was still retained by the leaders of the UEG, despite good relations with the Council Races.

"Commander Shepard will be heading towards Therum as well," Keyes said, reminding the Chief of the "competition" part of this war. "But we're still running on a skeleton crew. It's your call, Chief."

Andthere it was. His first decision as CO of the ship. Luckily, it wasn't a very difficult one. If the outpost had stopped communicating a week ago, it either pointed to equipment failure or a hostile invasion. He wasn't going to risk the latter by assuming the former.

"It's better than nothing," said the Chief. "Plot a course to Therum, Artemis Tau Cluster."

"Aye aye, Master Chief," said the Captain.

"Hah!" Said Cortana. "Racing the stealthy _Normandy_ to Therum to save the damsel in distress…I'm already liking where this is going."

The Master Chief couldn't agree on that. He watched the crew - _his_ crew- get the _Reach_ underway, directed by Keyes, and felt a kick of frustration. He didn't know what irritated him more; that the UNSC seemed more interested in playing political games and turning a vital military operation into a competition between assets, or the fact that he now answered directly to the Council.

To top it off, the trip to Therum would take them about eighteen hours. He wasn't eager to wait eighteen hours for his next mission.

On his way out, he overheard Ramsey and Pattillo talking.

"So a thankful Matriarch is a powerful ally, right?"

"Probably. Unless she simply pays credits."

"Credits is good. We don't get paid anymore now that we're with a Spectre, and I really need that whiskey."

"Seriously man, a grateful Matriarch in _debt_ is more useful than simple credits."

The Chief hadn't thought about that. To him, this was about rescuing civilians from a possible invasion, not about gaining favours. Would Shepard see it that way? Would Johnson?

Was this what being a Spectre was about?

On his way down in the elevator, Cortana spoke up. " _How about a tour? This ship might look like a Destroyer from the outside, but on the inside, it's a completely different story."_

The Chief shrugged. He could use a distraction. "Sure."

" _Good. Follow the directions to the crew deck."_

He did as Cortana asked him, and soon, he stepped onto the crew quarters. Experience told him that the crew quarters of a Destroyer were cramped, with limited recreational facilities.

So when he saw that these crew quarters were large enough to offer a dozen packs of Brutes comfort and luxury, he felt somewhat puzzled.

"What is this?"

" _The crew quarters,"_ Cortana smugly said. " _The decks and corridors are designed with Liminals in mind, there are several access tunnels and shafts for easy transport for flying Liminals and the crew quarters have been reinforced. Probably for pillow fights."_

"Isn't all this open space dangerous?"

" _Hydraulic reinforcements can be activated in an instant. Besides; we have Kinetic Barriers and the stealth system. If everything goes according to plan, we won't be shot at. And I just realized how stupid that sounded, once I said it aloud."_

"The ship is outfitted with weapon systems. Seems getting shot at is still part of the course."

The Master Chief continued on, heading towards Engineering. "How potent is the stealth system, anyway?"

" _When compared against the_ Normandy _?"_

He sighed. "Just in general."

The AI sounded disappointed. " _Oh. Sure. The outer hull is coated with stealth ablative coating, which hides the ship's radar signature and acts as a form of active camouflage. Engine emissions are hidden via the use of heat sinks, just like the_ Normandy _, except we are more dependent on Slipspace."_

"Meaning?"

" _Meaning that we're always running cold, instead of several hours. If the Captain and his crew pilot this tub the right way, we are completely radar-invisible. Even better, when the baffled engines run below 30%, the craft is as dark as interstellar space. No nukes, though."_

The Chief cocked an eyebrow at that. "No nukes?"

" _No nukes."_

"Why not?" He asked, even though he probably already knew the answer.

" _I see the pulse from the Prothean Beacon knocked all knowledge of naval details out of your helmet. No problem. It's because nukes emit a detectable Cherenkov radiation flare upon transmission from Slipspace to normal space. Unless you_ want _to send the bad guys a postcard with your name on it every time you arrive at their doorstep, no nukes."_

"No nukes," he repeated. "We'll make do without it."

After that, the Chief made his way towards his private quarters, a section of the upper deck dedicated to the Commanding Officer. Not the Captain's Quarters though, for which he was very thankful. There was no way he would take Keyes' quarters for himself.

When he entered the room, he found that it was bigger than what he had expected. Big enough to contain a bed, two closets, a table and even a piece of oak strapped to the wall, to which a Plasma Rifle had been fastened.

Curious as to why someone would strap a piece of ordnance to the wall, the Chief picked the weapon up and checked its sights and battery. Maybe it was dead, and they had hung it there as a reminder?

But no, the alien weapon was active. Fully charged, even.

" _That's art, Chief. A decoration."_

To someone else, maybe. To the Chief, it was now an emergency weapon.

Further observation revealed that there were no windows in the room, luckily. After almost falling out of the _Autumn's_ broken viewscreen during the Monitor's ambush, he had grown to resent that particular design.

There were plenty of other amenities in the room, including something that looked suspiciously like a shower.

The Chief felt a strange sense of longing when he saw that. The last time he had had a shower with actual, warm water had been back…what, back on the Cairo?

That had been months ago…

He _had_ eighteen hours to kill.

 _And_ they had stashed an engineering pod in his quarters as well, he saw. It could be manually operated, automatically operated and even overridden by an AI in case of an emergency. He had the time; he could get out of his armour in a matter of minutes and-

A loud knock on the door shook him out of his thoughts.

The Master Chief sighed. That had better be Desolas Arterius himself knocking on his door, ready to turn himself in…

As it turned out, it wasn't the Arterius he was looking for.

"Saren," the Chief upon seeing the geared-up Spectre standing on his doorstep.

"Spartan," Saren dryly replied. "I wanted to speak to you, before we embark on our next operation."

The Master Chief felt a sense of unease creep up on him. "Yes?"

"I have read your files, including the ones your ONI doesn't generally want people to read. There is no denying you have… _potential_."

"Potential?" Repeated the Chief. His mind raced to process what Saren had just told him. What files had he read? Had his Spectre status given him the security access needed to discover the origin of the Spartans? "I've served longer than you have. The Spartans have hundreds of thousands of enemy casualties on their name."

"Certainly, your potential for destruction is hard to match. But what of your judgement, your ethics? You're not soldier anymore, Spartan. Recognizing and destroying your enemy is now the least of your concerns."

"What are you saying?" The Chief asked, starting to harbour some serious regrets about his decision to allow Saren aboard the ship.

"I'm saying that a Krogan Battlemaster can be a great soldier, but to make the right decisions? That takes a specific state of mind. I'm curious to see if you can attain that."

The Master Chief stared at Saren for a few moments, reminding himself that, yes, he definitely had reasons for keeping him on the team. Those reasons existed, he was certain of it.

He just couldn't remember them at the moment.

"I guess we'll find out," he eventually replied. "Was that all?"

Saren scoffed. "Of course not. I wanted to talk to you about the Initiative. Specifically, Desolas."

"Alright. What about them?"

"I would prefer capturing him alive, if at all possible."

The Chief felt somewhat surprised at that. "What for?"

Saren's default expression -a smug, arrogant one- made way for a hint of discomfort. "That audio file…something's wrong with it. The superstitious bits, that's not like Desolas."

That thought had crossed the Chiefs mind too, before he discarded it. Religious superstition had worked for the Covenant, so it would work for the Initiative, he reasoned. "Capturing him alive would be preferable. Whatever the Conduit is, he can't be allowed to find it."

"In case it's a weapon, yes," Saren said, basically vocalizing the Spartan's thoughts, much to his frustration. "I have been debriefed on the original purpose of the Halos as well."

For some reason, that frustrated the Chief. "But if he forces our hand…" he started, eager to steer the conversation away from that particular topic.

"Then we will have no choice but to eliminate him, and set our sights on other members," Saren finished his thought.

Again.

He observed the Chief for a few moments, his expression inscrutable, before scowling. 'And yes, that will be all."

With that, Saren skulked off again, leaving a thoroughly-annoyed Master Chief alone with his thoughts.

In a manner of speaking.

" _I think it's just me, but I'm getting used to him,"_ said Cortana.

"Like getting used to assassinations, yes," replied the Chief. He thought about spending eighteen hours aboard a ship with a skeleton crew and what that meant for his chances to accidentally run into Saren again.

The calculations did not lie, and he didn't like his odds. "Cortana?"

" _Yes?"_

"Which way to the cryo bay?"

" _Cryo bay? What, did the big, scary Turian ruin shower-time for you?"_

The Chief merely shrugged. "I changed my mind. Furthermore, where did you station the crew?"

" _Well, you know what they say; the mind of a Spartan is fickle. I stationed Miia and Draco on Marine rotation, by the way. They're unpacking right now, but they'll drop off their stuff at the crew quarters when they're done. "_

"Good job," said the Chief. "We'll pick up the rest of the enlisted crew after we've checked on Therum."

" _So why ask about the Cryo pods? Are you going to do what I think you're going to do?"_

He shrugged. "That depends."

" _Oh, have you have GOT to be - Spartan one-one-seven! You are not going to sit out eighteen hours by cryonically freezing yourself!"_

The Spartan sighed. Another plan, dashed to the winds. _Now_ what was he supposed to do?

~0~

* * *

 **0600 Hours, January 25** **th** **, 2549 (Military Calendar) / UNSC** _ **Balmung**_ **,**

 **Crescent Nebula, Tasale System, Illium**

" _Welcome to Illium, Ave,"_ said Johnson's newly-assigned personal Artificial Intelligence, Sylph. " _Systems at the_ Balmung _have been recalibrated and are now standing by. By the way, I'm good with people, so just let me walk you through this!"_

"Damn good work."

The Sergeant Major didn't wear fancy-schmancy armour like the Master Chief did, which meant that he couldn't carry his AI partner with him to the bathroom if need be. For this mission, he'd settle for a direct comm-link to the _Balmung_ , giving him roughly the same result.

Johnson disembarked onto the landing pad that had been assigned at Nos Astra's Azure Docks, a busy, yet rarely-visited little starport bordering on Nos Astra's commercial district where the Asari had somehow managed to legalize slavery by wrapping it up in bureaucracy.

Waiting for him was an official-looking Asari in a business-suit, but Johnson's sharp eyes immediately detected a pistol strapped to her boot and a Biotic amp in her neck.

She met his eyes, and then approached him. "Welcome, Spectre," she started, but Johnson interrupted her.

" _Sergeant Major_ ," he corrected.

"I…apologize. It seems there was a mistake. I was informed that a _Spectre_ would be arriving."

Johnson reached for his cigar. 'Yup. That's me."

"But…your rank does not coincide with that of a Spectre."

"I know. It's still Sergeant Major. I'm a Spectre."

"I must insist on seeing some credentials, please."

Johnson booted up his omni-tool, linking it to hers. "There."

A hint of recognition crossed her features. "Ah, yes. That verifies it. Now then, Sergeant…Major…what brings you here?"

" _Keep it secret,"_ advised Sylph. " _Don't let her fish for info. Confuse her!"_

"My name's Johnson," the Sergeant Major said. "I'm looking for Johnson to proof Desolas is a Johnson."

The Asari stared at him with a horrified expression.

" _Excellent confusion! Now walk past her like a real man!"_

Johnson didn't need a little pixie of an AI telling him how to be a real man. He had _invented_ the art of being a real man. He politely lifted his hat to the Asari and brushed past her, pressing deeper into the port.

He was looking for a club called the "Assurance", which proved to be just a taxi ride away from where he had landed his Pelican. Normally, the Sergeant Major wouldn't bother going to clubs. He'd learnt his lesson before joining his beloved Corps.

But he was here on a mission.

Johnson's shiny new ship had enough room for an army. Literally; the Halcyon-Class had eight docking bays, six armouries and a dozen vehicles. There was room for an entire battalion of Marines plus a couple of hundred Naval personnel. Almost enough to equal him. The problem was that, as it stood, the massive Cruiser was piloted by Miranda, Nihlus and him alone, while Sylph did most of the heavy lifting. The armouries felt lonely, and the ship just didn't feel the same without a full complement of green.

He was here to supply that green.

The Assurance was set up on the lower levels of Nos Astra, which weren't all that bad on the eyes. Still, there weren't a lot of humans here. They didn't feel comfortable enough on alien worlds. Hell, Johnson could relate to that. The only "human" thing he could see on this world were the various Liminal people, visiting Illium because they had nothing to keep them home, in UNSC space.

Johnson walked to the club's entrance, where a scene between a bouncer and a pair of Krogan was rapidly escalating. The bouncer was a fair-skinned Centaur, with blue eyes and long, blonde hair. Her clothes looked like a mixture between a business suit just like the Asari at the docks had worn and a cannibalized UNSC uniform.

He knew that the Centaur species was old, even by Liminal standards. They were known to be proud and strong-willed, drawn to places where they could live out their lives in honour or tradition. They had been invaluable allies during the Human-Covenant war.

So seeing one work as a bouncer at some Asari club was a bit strange.

"Thou has returned?" Said the Centaur.

The Krogan marched up towards her, his attitude screaming trouble. "You're going to let me in, female!"

The Centaur placed a hand on her hip. No, Johnson noted. Not on her hip, but on the extendable stun baton she seemed to keep on her person. "After I threw thee out already? I do not think so."

That was when the Krogan pulled out a shotgun, snarling as he did. "If you think-"

The bouncer didn't hesitate a moment. She pulled her stun baton from its holster faster than the Krogan could sneeze and whipped him across his face, hard.

The Krogan stumbled, spitting out a glob of orange blood. When he didn't back down, the Centaur hit jabbed him in the fork of his legs with the baton, before grabbing him by his head and slamming it against the wall, which cracked under the impact.

"Hmph…hardly a challenge…" muttered the bouncer.

Only then did the second Krogan realize that his buddy had been taken down, and he charged at the Centaur, bellowing a challenge.

The Centaur met his challenge and reared back on her hind legs, slamming the hoofs of her front legs into the alien's face.

Said face proved to be even less sturdier than that of his friend, and he too went down in an instant.

Johnson had to admit that he was almost impressed. KO'ing a Krogan by means of blunt force trauma to the face wasn't an easy thing to pull off for people who weren't part of the Johnson lineage. Still, he couldn't shake the thought that there was something military about that maneuver. About her entire demeanor, even.

A good Sergeant Major could sniff out a Marine from a mile away.

So again, it felt odd to him that she was _here_. A long time ago, in a somewhat darker period of his life, Avery had spent his time picking fights with bouncers in clubs just like these. It ended bad, for everyone involved. Still, after seeing this bouncer knock out two Krogan as if it meant nothing, he couldn't help but picture what would have happened if she had been involved.

Hell, had _she_ been the bouncer, it probably wouldn't have gotten to a fight in the first place.

"Can I help thee, sir?" She then said, addressing Johnson.

"Yeah," he replied, taking a step towards her. "I'm a Spectre, looking for a Hel named Halifa?"

The moment Avery mentioned that name, the Centaur's expression darkened. She didn't comment on it, though. "A Spectre? Truly, here?"

Johnson sent her his authorization codes, verifying his business. "She here?"

"That solely depends on thine intentions, Spectre," she replied. "I will not have violence within this place!"

Johnson peered past her, into the dark interior of the club. "It's a club. An alien club. Why do you care?"

"Because it is my job! I was hired to safeguard this place and by my ancestors I will fulfill my duties!"

Same old Centaur pride as he saw in the others. But why in an _alien club_? Why not on the battlefield, or in an PMC, or any other place that didn't have to deal with aliens? "Uh-huh. Well, I'm sure the boys and girls back on the homefront will be happy to hear that."

The Centaur bristled. "What does thee mean by that?" She hissed.

Johnson crossed his arms and did what came to him naturally: chewing the scenery. "Lady, humanity _just_ recovered from getting her its ass completely kicked by the Covenant. We're at war with the Batarian Hegemony, _three_ different terrorist organizations are spilling blood on our soil and to top it off, some secret lunatic raised an army of toasters to kick the ass of one of our colonies and now he's searching for some toaster-superweapon to kill us all!" He paused to let that sink in. "And some folks think he's trying to bring back a race of ancient killer aliens to resurrect a goddess of some sort, but that's _classified."_

She stared at him with a mixture of confusion and horror, too shocked to respond.

But Avery had heard enough; the bouncer's suspicious attitude confirmed his own suspicious suspicions. The girl he was looking for was inside, and if that was so hush-hush too, her reputation preceded her.

He excused himself and entered the Assurance. The club's dark and moodily lit interior was made up out of two separate floors and a round platform overlooking the dance floor from the entrances. The club was crowded, and the atmosphere tense. It reminded him of the nightclubs back home. This place even had the mob of wild dancers and loud, repetitive techno-crap that young people listened to these days.

It grated him, but years of army experience had turned his nerves to steel, and his blood to ice water. His senses would not be affected by the noise and strobing lights.

The Sergeant Major pushed on, heading deeper into the club. He didn't need to search for long; he spotted a VIP lounge at the far end of the club, and he could hear high-pitched, feminine laughter coming from inside.

Of the maniacal sort.

 _That_ was where he needed to go.

Problem was, he had alien bastards in his way. An absolutely _huge_ Turian stood in front of the entrance, glaring daggers at anyone who came too close.

Johnson paused at that, wondering why a single Turian bouncer would be covering an obvious VIP lounge like that.

He scanned the room with his Sergeant Major eyes, boosted by his new Spectre status. He spotted three Asari dancers who had hidden guns in their…limited clothing. Two more Turians stood guard at other strategic places.

This was going to get messy.

"Sylph," Johnson said, contacting the AI through his in-ear communicator. To anyone else, he would appear like a badass with an itchy ear. "I need to get past a bouncer. Big guy. Don't wanna kick too much ass in one day. Any ideas?"

" _A bouncer? Tough-looking?"_

"Yeah."

" _Mean-looking?"_

"For an alien, yeah."

" _Armed, ready to kill anyone bothering him?"_

"Probably."

" _Hmm…ask him politely if you can pass!"_

Johnson nodded. "Right. I'll call you if everything works out."

Keeping the incredibly-advanced AI's advice in mind, the Sergeant Major stepped up towards the bouncer and said, "Excuse me sir, I need to get into the VIP lounge. Could you kindly step aside?"

"Piss off."

Johnson scowled and contacted Sylph again. "Your plan didn't work, smartass."

" _He didn't let you pass? And you were polite? Did you say please?"_

"I need a better plan! And scan the club's interior with the long-range scanners while you're at it."

The AI sighed. " _Just move past him. If he tries to stop you, kick his butt while telling him you're a Spectre."_

It seemed like a good idea, so Johnson moved to do just that. He tried to march by the bouncer, was stopped by said bouncer and proceeded to smack him across the face.

"I'm a Spectre!" Johnson told the bouncer, before kicking him in the chest and turning him into a makeshift projectile to smash through the door to the VIP lounge. "Damnit Sylph, my grandma could have come up with a better plan. Next time, ask Nihlus for assistance!"

Inside the VIP lounge, shit hit the Slipspace engine. A pair of Asari jumped to their as soon as the bouncer came crashing through the door, a Turian reached for his rifle and a Volus scrambled for cover.

And in the middle of that bunch of weirdos sat the Hel, a wicked grin on her face. She still had her pale complexion, unhealthily so, with a thin body that was covered only by a collection of belts and straps. Her blue hair was longer than Johnson had thought physically possible, tied in two braids that reached down to her boots.

"Hey Avery," she chirped, even as one of the Asari wrapped herself in a Biotic field and tackled him. "Long time no see!"

"Halifa," Johnson called, trying to punch through a Biotic Barrier strong enough to stop mass accelerator rounds. The second Asari's attempt to put him in a Stasis field were foiled by his hat. "You and I need to talk."

"Nah…don't feel like talking."

Johnson dodged a Biotically-charged punch that gauged a hole into the floor beneath him. Just his luck; Biotic martial artists.

He attempted a powerful heel kick to the first Asari's diaphragm, but the alien caught his attack with both hands and tried to twist it.

Johnson proceeded to defy gravity and landed a flash kick against the Asari's chin, knocking her away from him. "Don't care you don't feel like talking! You're coming with me!"

"Boooring."

The second Asari Biotically tore the collection of bottles and glasses from the wall and started flinging them at the Sergeant Major, while the Turian opened fire.

Johnson cursed under his breath as he pulled out his pistol and unleashed a bip-bap-bam combination. The perfectly-aimed shots blasted three of the bottles to smithereens right as they sailed past the Turian, bombarding him with pieces of glass and several liters of liquor and other beverages

The impromptu shelling threw off the alien's aim, and Johnson took that moment to advance on Halifa, pointing an accusing finger at her. "Now you listen here-"

The Asari Biotically ripped the door out of its already-ruined frame and flung it at Johnson, as if battering him with a fly swatter meant for Killer Hornets.

It smashed against Johnson's torso, breaking to pieces against his manliness. He immediately utilized the remains of the door as a weapon and swung them at the Turian and the Asari, knocking them to the ground with the large pieces of door. "You owe me a favour, Halifa. I've come to cash in!"

The Hel jumped to her feet. "Come get me!"

Oh, he was planning on that alright. As the Liminal woman opened a hidden compartment inside the VIP lounge and dove through it, Johnson turned back to where he came from and contacted the _Balmung_ again. "Sylph, which way to go?"

" _Ehm…judging by the scans, you can cut her off at the main exit if you hurry."_

"Got it."

Explosions sounded throughout the club as Halifa attempted to make her escape. She didn't bother hiding her route though, as her nigh-maniacal laughter accompanied every detonation.

The crowd had already been riled up by music and drugs, so when the explosions went off, they turned into a flock of panicked Grunts with all the stampeding capabilities of a group of Hunters. Completely unable to keep themselves composed, the guests devolved into a mass of screaming, panicked animals.

Avery had no choice but to fight his way through. He tilted his head from the left to the right, his neck stretching and popping each time. "Class is starting!"

The Asari dancers were keen on stopping him with their gunfire and Biotics. Normally, spotting a target in a mob like this would be difficult. Then again, there was only one place in the panicked crowd where people were sent flying left and right, which Johnson guessed made it easy to spot him.

It was no sweat off his back. He returned fire, targeting their pistols, then grabbed the nearest man and threw him at one of the dancers as they tried to rush him instead.

Civilian and dancer alike crashed to the ground and Johnson jumped, leaping for the raised platform near the exit. His resolve was steadfast, his heart was pure, and his timing was perfect. He landed right in front of the Hel, a smoking cigar in his left hand and his gun in his right.

She stared at him, her red eyes filled with confusion and frustration. "How did you-"

"Now you listen here and you listen well," he cut her off. "Once again, alien bastards kicked down the door to our house. And now it is _our_ job to finish what they started! _This_ Sergeant Major made Spectre, and is going to meet the enemy on solid ground! And when I find them, I'm going to rip their heads off their spines, and toss 'em away, laughin'! Now grab a gun and a drink, 'cause you're going with me!"

She blinked. "Explosives?"

"You bet."

She grinned. "Why didn't you say so? I was getting bored over here."

Johnson scowled. "I sent you a message!"

"And I deleted it," she replied. She then grabbed him by his arm, tugging him towards the exit. "Now come on! You got a ship? I bet you got a ship!"

Johnson didn't budge an inch. "Go get your stuff, meet me at the docks."

She was already wandering off, so Johnson didn't see any need to give her more directions. She'd find her way to his ship eventually. She always found her way towards the most batshit situations.

The crowd inside was still trying to get out, but it didn't seem like the explosives that Halifa had set, harmed anyone. He'd better leave this place before Illim's officials came crashing the party.

However, as the Sergeant Major left the Assurance via its main entrance again, he found himself face to face with the bouncer, who didn't look at all amused.

"Spectre!"

The Sergeant Major turned to face her, fully expecting having to go toe-to-toe with her as well. "Ma'am?"

"The things thou said, about the war, and the terrorism, I cannot let that slide!"

"Hmm?"

She pulled out her stun baton, pointing it at the sky as if she were a military commander back in the eighteenth century. "Too long have I sat idle, neglecting my duties to the people! No longer! The meek shall defeat the wicked! Truly, it must be fate that dictated our meeting!"

Johnson looked over his shoulder, making sure that they were alone. Turning someone to the good cause, just like that? _Damn_ he was good. "That's the spirit. I'm sure-"

"I will come with you at once!" She then said, looking at him with her head held high, a gaze of steel determination bearing down at him.

Johnson snorted, not really keen on hiring a _bouncer_ of all people.

But then he reconsidered. Centaurs were famous for their combat prowess and martial honour. They were tough, agile and durable, and this woman had been a Marine once. He could _smell_ the green on her.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"My name is Cerea Shianus, of the highly-esteemed Shianus family!" She proudly proclaimed.

Johnson shrugged. "Lady, as long as you can follow orders and kick ass, you're welcome aboard my ship. Gather your gear and meet me at the dock."

All in all, the Sergeant Major couldn't complain. He'd be leaving with two soldiers for the price of one.

Now, he just hoped that the _Balmung's_ much vaunted durability wouldn't come short. He had a feeling that this was going to be one rough ride.

~0~

* * *

 **13:00 Hours, January 25** **th** **, 2549 (Military Calendar) / UNSC** _ **Normandy**_

 **En-route to Therum**

There were days when Garrus Vakarian considered himself one of luckiest Turian individual in all of Council Space. This was one of them.

He sat in the Engineering and Storage bay of the very first spacecraft designed by the Turian Hierarchy and the United Nations Space Command in history, as part of a badass crew to support an enigmatic Spectre on her mission to save the galaxy from evil. That was basically the ultimate Turian ideal.

And to top it all off, he could _finally_ get a first-hand look on that infamous UNSC ordnance that his father used to tell him about.

Garrus had been brought up with the stories of the Human-Covenant war, just like most Turians his age. Heroic stories about atonement, camaraderie and last stands against the Covenant menace. His father had been a Detective Sergeant back on the Citadel when C-Sec first started hiring humans into their ranks. At first, his father hadn't liked it one bit. That attitude had done a complete one-eighty when he saw what some of their species were capable of.

He couldn't wait to see all those stories with his own eyes.

Maybe that was why the Mako APC bothered him so much. It was an excellent piece of military hardware of course, but it seemed somewhat… _generic_. A joint Turian-Human effort could produce something more flashy than a normal APC, couldn't it?

Still, there were plenty of human weapons lying around. The requisitions officer seemed to make a point of buying weapons from both theatres of war.

Garrus couldn't _wait_ to try one of those human snipers for himself. That was probably on his priority list, right underneath meeting the UNSC's equivalent of Spirits.

Real, breathing, living Spirits. If only his mother had lived to see the day…

Garrus was shaken from his thoughts when he saw the Krogan, Urdnot Wrex, shuffle by with a large duffle bag.

Something sharp and shiny protruded from the back.

Feeling somewhat nervous all of a sudden, Garrus returned his attention to the APC. Trust a Turian and a human to pick up arms together and trust a Turian and a Krogan to fight to the death together, as his old Captain had once told him. He wasn't sure this Wrex guy wasn't going to cause trouble on the ship.

Following the Krogan was the Quarian, oddly enough. Tali'Zorah…something something. He'd always been bad with those long names. He once pissed off a Hanar witness by messing up his name. That particular mistake had earned him toilet duty for a week.

"Ehm…you're Garrus, right?" The Quarian addressed him. She seemed distracted; she wrung her hands together and didn't look him in his eyes. Well, as far as a Quarian could make eye-contact, anyway.

"Eh, yeah, that's me," he replied. What did she want from him?

"I….don't think we met. Properly, I mean. My name is Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. P-people call me Tali."

Garrus felt a twang of discomfort. There was something off-putting about Quarian masks. Still, he wasn't going to lose his manners because of some _feeling_. "Garrus Vakarian. Can I help you?"

"Yes. Actually…I was wondering…" Her visor quickly turned towards the Krogan, then back again. "You Turians know a lot about humanity, right? About…about their people?"

That was an odd question. If she wanted to know about humans, why not ask a _human_? He had yet to see that Jenkins kid stay silent about something "The Hierarchy tried to help them against the Covenant after our First Contact at Shanxi, yes. It brought our species together."

The Quarian nodded eagerly. "Back on the Flotilla, we sometimes got our hands on data logs or info stamps about the war with the Covenant. It's almost impossible to imagine anyone surviving against them, let alone fighting back."

"The Commander did," Garrus pointed out.

"Yes," Tali said. "She did. They're a very diverse people, humanity."

Garrus thought he could see where this was going. Still, it wouldn't hurt to humour her. "They are."

"But I was wondering…are all humans women like her?"

Garrus frowned. "A Commander?"

"No! A…" She looked over her shoulder, glancing at the Krogan again. When she next spoke, she had adopted a very hushed tone. "You know. With the…the wings and the horns and the…" She made a gesture with her head. "The Ambassador was the same…but the Emissary wasn't! And that dark-skinned soldier…he wasn't either. But those other two soldiers-"

She was starting to ramble, so Garrus decided to help her out a bit. "They're called Lininal species. Humanity exists out of whole bunch of different races, all of them with different appearances and cultures."

"Wow, really? So all these people, they're all humans?"

"Part of the collective, yes. Liminals and humans together form "humanity", or "mankind"."

"But all of them are different races?"

"Basically."

The Quarian was silent for a few moments, likely struggling to take that info in. "I still can't believe that General Desolas would _attack_ a community like that."

"Well, the UNSC is still weak from the Great War," Garrus pointed out. "After Reach, and Earth, their fleet was reduced to…what, twenty ships? Thirty?"

"I heard about Reach," Tali then said, her tone growing softer. "The UNSC hired more than two-thousand of my people to work at the shipyards there. One of my uncles was among them. Do you know what happened to them? They haven't returned."

Garrus just stared at her, shocked that someone wouldn't know about the Fall of Reach. Then again, Quarians were very secluded. He guessed it made sense that she didn't know.

How in Spirits-name would he tell her about that? "I ehm…hmmm…they didn't return? Your people didn't hear from them?"

"No. You said the UNSC lost a part of their fleet there. Do you think they're still there?"

Her tone had something hopeful now. Heavens, what would he tell her? Should he lie? Would that be the best?

"Reach is gone, girl," the Krogan suddenly said from across the room. "Covenant swept in months ago and burnt it to a cinder."

Garrus glared at him. _Damn you_.

Normally, a Quarian's faceplate hid all of their emotions from view. This time though, Garrus didn't need to imagine what the girl looked like underneath that mask. He could see the words hitting home like mass accelerator rounds. "But…that's not…"

The Krogan didn't seem to care. He leant against one of the lockers and said, "Word is, nobody made it out."

"That's not true," Garrus shot back. "There were survivors, some ships managed to make it out!"

"You believe what you want to believe. Fact is, everybody down there's dead."

"I…I should probably…go check on the core again…" Muttered the Quarian. Her voice nearly broke at the end. She hurried back to her post, and when the door closed behind her, Garrus whirled on the Krogan.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" He snapped. "Why'd you spring that on her like that!"

The Krogan shrugged. "It's the truth. Why bother make it better than it is."

Garrus shook his head, bristling at the merc's lack of empathy. "She's still a kid!"

"So? She signed up with the Spectre, she knew that things would get ugly."

Garrus didn't have an answer to that. Yes, the Quarian had signed up with Shepard for a military operation and yes, she'd been informed about the risks. But then again, she was an engineer damnit! She was here to fix and build things, not brave the gruelling realities of war!

With that in mind, Garrus simply sighed and turned his attention back to the Mako. What on Palaven had possessed the Commander to hire a Krogan mercenary? They didn't need Krogans for muscle, they could easily hire a Liminal soldier to take that role!

He wondered if the Commander knew about the bad blood between the Turians and the Krogan. She seemed liked a smart soldier, and her race was known for carefully thinking things through before making decisions.

Mere minutes after Garrus started tinkering with the Mako again, something else came up. Commander Shepard called for all members of the squad to report in at the crew quarters, as something had come up.

That was the message. Something had come up.

Garrus wasn't exactly an expert on humans and Liminals, so he didn't know if she sounded worried or excited, but normally when something came up that needed the entire crew to come together, it was bad.

~0~

* * *

The Master Chief arrived on the bridge, closely followed by Miia and Draco. The bridge was a beehive of activity; crewmembers were communicating with each other at a rapid pace, on-screen images were rapidly alternating between camera images and scanning images and Captain Keyes sat in his chair, directing them.

His relief at having finally arrived at their goal lasted mere seconds when he saw the state of the crew. He knew immediately that something was up.

"Spectre on deck!" One of the Lieutenants snapped upon seeing the Master Chief.

"At ease," the Chief quickly told the helmsman, before turning his attention to Keyes. "Did we find Liara T'Soni?"

"I'm afraid not, Master Chief. We just arrived in the system, but we found something on the long-range scanners near Therum."

The Chief marched over towards the Captain's seat and took a look at the screen. He saw a strange, elongated figure with several protruding "limbs" at its sides. He had no idea what it was, though. "What am I looking at?"

~0~

* * *

"A Geth ship," Commander Shepard answered Garrus's question. "The scanners picked it up in orbit, in a geosynchronous orbit around the planet."

Garrus was still trying to process what he had been told. A few minutes ago, they had arrived in the system and immediately powered down to preserve stealth. According to the Codex, Therum was a dry and arid planet with a lot of volcanic activity. The crust was deemed valuable because of its richness in minerals and heavy metals. There wasn't much in terms of actual colony-ness on-world; a few mining platforms and only one city, which wasn't all that large to begin with.

"I'm sorry, did you say _Geth_?" He asked.

The Commander tapped a few buttons at the table and a holographic image sprang to life. "I did. Tali, do you recognize this outline?"

"That's a Geth Frigate," Tali coldly said. Any semblance of nervousness at her current position was gone. "You can see that by the arthropod-like design and the large abdomen. This one looks like it's rated for troop transport."

"Any more Geth ships in orbit?" Asked Alenko.

Shepard shook her head. "That's the only Geth ship."

Crossing her arms, Williams asked, "Why not just go in guns blazing? If it's a troop transport, blowing it to kingdom come will really screw these Geth over."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," the Commander replied. A dark look crossed her features as she said, "You see…"

~0~

* * *

"We've spotted a secondary ship as well," said Keyes, and Ensign Free changed the image of the Geth Frigate to that of a ship with a curving, bulbous shape that the Master Chief recognized all too well.

"That's a Covenant Frigate," he said. How could a Covenant Frigate and a Geth Frigate be in the same system as the other without immediately going all "burn the heretic" on the other? "Elites?"

"Maybe. The strange thing is, that ship is also in geosynchronous orbit around Therum."

The Chief frowned. He knew that Covenant scanning technology had been lightyears ahead of humanity's during the start of the war, and that humanity had slowly been catching up during the last months. Still, if the _Reach_ could detect that Geth ship, so could the Covenant. "They didn't spot each other?"

"I have no idea why it _didn't_ spot the Geth. They're not hidden, there is no jamming tech involved."

The Master Chief thought that very strange. The Covenant -or what was now left of them- didn't just ignore other ships. They always fought until the last non-Covenant ship in the system was destroyed. It was simply not possible that they would allow the Geth's presence.

So something else was going on. Were they boarding the Geth Frigate? The other way around? Or maybe the colonists, were _they_ trying to board the alien crafts? Not likely. "Cortana?"

Cortana's digital avatar emerged from the holotank next to the Captain's seat, streaming with logic code. "Scanning. Covenant ship doesn't match any of the Arbiter's vessels. If it's ignoring the Geth ship, it might be damaged, or powered down."

"Should we try to hail it?" Asked Lieutenant Jones.

"Negative," the Chief immediately said. "This is a rescue mission now. T'Soni is the VIP, and getting her out is our top priority." He briefly toyed with the idea of attempting to board the Covenant Frigate, then discarded it. Had he been with his fellow Spartans, he would have tried such an operation. As it was now, a potential boarding was too dangerous. "Bring us closer to the planet."

~0~

* * *

Shepard continued. "We have been unable to contact anyone on the colony. We have to assume that there is an invasion underway."

"Covenant?" Garrus asked, torn between a whole mess of very different emotions. He felt eager, because he could to finally engage this Covenant himself, but he also felt fear. Fear, for what he might encounter once he did.

"Geth?" Tali asked, perhaps experiencing the same emotional conflict.

Shepard shook her head. "Could be either. Assume both."

Wrex uttered a low, rumbling chuckle. "I like the way you think."

"What about survivors?" Asked Alenko.

Shepard considered his question for a few moments, then replied, "Aid survivors as you can, but remember; the Matriarch's daughter is our goal."

"Commander?" Williams then said. "That other Spectre forwarded the message to both you as Master Chief one-one-seven, right?"

"Oh, yeah, that's right," added Alenko. "Should we be expecting friendlies on this mission?"

Garrus could have sworn that he saw a hint of annoyance on the Commander's face. "We haven't located his ship yet. Rest assured, if the Master Chief and his…crew…show up, we will treat them like friendlies. If there are no further questions?"

Weirdly enough, there really were no further questions. Shepard ordered them to get geared up and prep for planetfall, after which they all stood and took their leave.

Garrus was pretty sure that nobody of Shepard's current team had ever faced the Covenant before either. Where were the questions about the terms of engagement? The enemy's weapon systems and species?

He supposed that they would come soon enough. That, or they would read the Codex entries about the Covenant species.

…the Codex entries! Garrus hadn't even read up on them! The _Normandy's_ Codex had been updated with secure UNSC information now that they had the access level of a Spectre!

He could feel this was going to be the start of a very strange adventure.

~0~

* * *

 **Therum**

 **Nova Yekaterinbur**

It was hard to sleep in the airducts. They too loud, too cramped. Still, there was no other choice. No other _safe_ choice, at least.

She could still hear them. The monsters. They were everywhere. They had infested the entire city.

At least _their_ noise was gone now. The occasional scream in the distance as the monsters made another victim had often roused her from her sleep during the first few days.

No more screams now. Everybody was dead. Everybody but her. The robots were gone, the aliens were gone, everything with a scrap of sanity had been butchered.

She was alone in a city of monsters.

Goddess, she was _hungry_ …would she dare venture outside again? Risk going out and find something resembling food again? She was exhausted, in every way possible, and she could not muster the strength to call upon her Biotics again. Should they come for her…she dreaded the thought.

 _They come out at night,_ she thought. _They come out at night…they come out at night…_

Except "night" now had many meanings. Night began the moment the sun went down and did not cease until it emerged again. But the various buildings, now devoid of power, were eternally shrouded in shadows, and the raging storms on Therum's surface made for scarce handful of safe hours.

If she were to go out, and encounter one of the monsters, there would be no saving her.

But she couldn't keep going like this. If she lost her consciousness when one of those things inevitably found her..

Her eyelids grew heavy, and she had to suppress a yawn. How long had it been without sleep? How many days had she spent cooped up inside the ventilation shafts, listening to the sounds of the slaughter?

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them tightly to her chest.

 _They come out at night…they come out at night…_

Liara T'Soni slowly felt herself drifting away…

~0~

* * *

 **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: SPECIES: SUCCUBUS**

 _A rare subspecies of the Devil race, Succubi can be considered the "odd ones out" of the Devil races. Their physiology resembles that of the Devils, possessing horns, wings and a tail. Because of the wide variety of habitats, they appearance ranges from that of Elder Devils to that of Lesser Devils. Succubi are also known to be physically stronger than Devils and possess incredible reflexes and intuition._

 _The physiology, however, is where the resemblance to Devils ends. Succubi are one of the several known Liminal species to be able to truly use magic, defying the current understanding of science. It has been documented that Succubi can take limited control over the wind, used both offensively as defensively. They also possess the power to control, or at least influence, the minds and thought process of most sentient creatures, like humans, Liminals and presumably aliens. According to a high-ranking Succubus, interviewed during the Human-Covenant War, there are several "factors" and "qualities" within the minds of sentient beings that prevent a Succubus from taking control. She refused to further elaborate on this statement._

 _ **ADDENDUM: SECURITY LEVEL 2 REQUIRED TO PROCEED**_

 _Unfortunately, the one ability that the Office of Naval Intelligence discovered to be innate to all Succubi is also the most dangerous one, and should be considered a hazard to public safety. All Succubus individuals possess the ability to manipulate "life force" *, a poorly-understood energy concept that is generated by all forms of organic life. By manipulating the life force of other beings, Succubi are able to cause grievous wounds, brings themselves or others back from the brink or dead and even resuscitate recently-deceased individuals. It is speculated that Succubi grow stronger with age, and that high-ranking Succubi can even gain control over the dead.**_

 _* (See attachment 1: "QI: THE SCIENCE OF SPIRITUAL ENERGY")_

 _** ( See attachment 2: "The Succubus Queens: flying obscenities or demi-gods?")_

* * *

 ** _AN:_** _ **so, we're finally getting the adventure underway. An alien mystery, a lovely Asari maiden in peril and a crew that won't last a day without falling apart.**_

 _ **Two crews, actually.**_

 _ **Regardless, this is also where I take the AU elements to new levels, starting with Liara's recruitment. Because those ain't husks down there.**_


	15. 2,4: Daily life with viral threats

**~0~**

* * *

 **18:15 Hours (Military Calendar) / UNSC Stealth Destroyer** _ **Reach**_

 **Artemis Tau Cluster, in orbit around Therum**

 **Hangar bay**

Faced with the prospect of fighting both the Covenant as the geth, Master Chief Petty Officer One-One-Seven could approach the mission two different ways. He could lead his team into the heart of the enemy's operation guns blazing, or he could go with a lighter loadout and let the Covenant and geth destroy each other.

Both approaches came with advantages and disadvantages, but they were on a tight schedule. There was no saying how long the VIP would survive down there. Time was of the essence, but they could not retrieve the VIP if they were engaged by an entire army's worth of hostiles.

The Master Chief concluded that, for this operation, a combination of stealth and speed was essential. Their equipment needed to reflect-

" _Nervous?"_

Cortana's sudden quip shook the Spartan from his thoughts. "What?"

" _About leading a team of your own. An actual team you command, just like before."_

The Chief considered her words for a few moments. His squad was capable, yes, but they weren't Spartans. He didn't know if he could trust them to cover him like his old team could. "I'll have to keep a close eye on them. We'll see how well they can operate together."

It took the rest of his squad a few minutes to arrive as well. Saren was the first; he pocketed a mass accelerator pistol and rifle, then added several tech grenades. Miia and Draco arrived together. The Echidna was content to take an MA5 rifle and two M6D pistols, while the Dragon armed herself with both a rifle as an M90 shotgun.

The Chief himself geared himself up with his new weapons, two frag grenades and a full dose of Polypseudomorphine. The sedative could keep a fit ODST knocked out for the rest of the day, but it was primarily used as a painkiller in small doses. When they found Liara T'Soni, she might require medical attention.

As the Chief pocketed his own arsenal, Cortana linked their communication systems and updated their FOE tags. She also added their shield bars to his own HUD, allowing him to prioritize covering his squad accordingly.

" _Are you ready?"_ Asked Cortana.

He nodded. "You have the stage."

" _Finally!"_

Cortana projected herself from the nearby holoprojector, even as the Master Chief called the team together. "Nova Yekaterinbur, a UNSC research and mining colony, went dark. It maintained a population of two-hundred colonists, mostly alien. The buildings were largely assembled from pre-manufactured, modular structures subsequently installed on Therum's surface for ease and speed of construction. Preliminary scanning reveals the outpost is without power, unable to communicate."

"In addition," the Chief said over SQUADCOM. "The situation on Therum is unknown. Expect heavy resistance from both Covenant as geth soldiers. Don't get caught in the crossfires and remember; we have a VIP to safe."

Miia checked her hardsuit's barriers, then asked, "How do we handle civilians?"

The Spartan had thought about how to proceed with civilians as well. Unfortunately, their objective was to save the VIP and the VIP only. "The mission is to secure the asari. We can't stop to secure civilians."

"But sir, there might be survivors down there, we can't just-"

The Master Chief took a step towards her. "Was my order unclear, Lieutenant?"

Miia looked away. "No sir," she quietly said.

The Chief had read up on the First Battle of Elysium; Lucifinae had fought tooth and nail for the city, fighting for the lives of hundreds of civilians around her. She had kept the forces of the Batarian Theocracies at bay for almost an entire day. But she needed to understand that, being a soldier, your mission always came first.

"Good. We'll drop in at the outskirts of Nova Yekaterinbur, after which we'll make our way to the research camp. Any questions?"

"What do we do when we discover the VIP is dead?" Asked Saren.

" _If_ we find T'Soni is dead, we'll go hot and return Therum to UNSC control," replied the Chief. "Anyone else?"

Draco took a magazine to her rifle, loudly slapping it home, which set the mood well enough. The Chief, having had a chance to brief Miia on her role as second in command before the meeting, nodded at the Liminal, after which he yanked Cortana.

Miia gave him a firm nod in response. "Don't forget the suppressors," she barked at Draco and Saren. "No explosions until we're exposed!"

Captain Keyes´ voice rang from the shipwide PA system: "The _Reach_ is in position for the drop. Brace for potential hostile fire while Sierra One-One-Seven embarks."

With no more than half a dozen human personnel aboard the ship, the Captain's warning wasn't as much to prep the crew as it was a matter of habit. But the Chief didn't mind; it helped him feel more familiar with his position as a Spectre. "Pelican's prepped. Move out."

Before soon, the squad filed into Foehammer's Pelican, which had been standing by for the past thirty minutes.

" _Spectre Agent Spartan aboard, ready to play the knight in shining armor,"_ called Flight Captain "Foehammer" Rawley.

The outer hatch cycled open and the bay explosively decompressed. A lone magazine which hadn't been packed properly tumbled into space, closely followed by the Pelican Dropship as it left the bay, did a series of wingovers and shot towards the planet below.

"First time in a UNSC bird?" Miia asked Saren after a few moments of silence.

The turian shot her a glare, but didn't reply.

"I asked you-"

The Pelican hit an air pocket in Therum's atmosphere, dropped like a rock and managed to catch itself. Neither Draco nor Saren batted an eye at the sudden loss of attitude, but Miia uttered a shriek that made the Chief wince.

Following her ear-splitting cry, the Echidna shot an angry glare at Saren, as if daring him to speak up. When Foehammer hit the COM and asked her if this was her first time on a "Spartan bird", Miia pouted like a child.

Then the banter came to a rough stop as Therum opened up beneath them. The Master Chief walked up to the cockpit and looked through the reinforced windows, searching the AO for activity. The ground and the rocks surrounding the place were a brilliant shade of brown and red, scorched in the constant heat. The buildings, both prefab as sturdier ones, casted jagged shadows in the sun, which was slowly setting. For a small mining location, the situation on Therum seemed like a small city than an outpost. Several large warehouse-like structures dominated the landscape.

"Seems like they're sending you into the fire again," said Foehammer.

Now that he wasn't constantly sitting in the cargo tray listening to the impossible inner workings of Halo, the Chief could take a closer look at Rawley. Her black hair was tucked inside of her pilot's helmet, which concealed the upper part of her face. She wasn't unattractive. "It's part of our duty as a soldier."

"I hear that. We'll be touching down momentarily; don't see any hostiles, but it's a big place."

"Acknowledged."

The Chief made his way to the back of the Pelican and readied his assault rifle. The suppressor substantially reduced the weapon's sound, muzzle flash and thermal energy, to the point that it almost negated audible sounds. So far, they hadn't been shot at, so it made sense to conclude that the enemy hadn't spotted them. Things needed to stay that way.

The hatch slowly opened. The team scanned the outer perimeter as soon as they could see solid ground and the Chief brazed himself for incoming fire.

When nothing happened, he waved Draco and Miia forwards, then followed them with Saren.

"Fan out," the Master Chief told his team. They weren't Blue Team; they would need constant verbal orders and directions. He had to get used to that.

" _Doctor T'Soni was stationed in this area. When you locate her, radio in and I'll come pick you."_

The Spartan glanced around, spotting a pool filled with magma nearby and guessed the rest about Therum's atmosphere. "Be sure to bring some water."

The pilot laughed, fed more fuel to the engines and took off again. Now that their air coverage had left, the Chief made sure to check his threat indicator and allowed the camp to close in around him. Outpost such as these were often brimming with activity, making it easier to determine where to go.

Which was why he thought it odd that he couldn't hear a thing. He felt the hot air via his vents, saw the shapes natural to the mining structures, but didn't hear anything that indicated this outpost was inhabited.

In fact, it looked outright deserted. It looked like everybody had just left their stuff behind and gotten the hell out of dodge. Broken gear lay out on the streets, mostly civilian goods like bottles, boxes and pieces of electronic equipment. What few windows he saw were barricaded, making it impossible to see what was going on inside. Worse; with the sun about to set, they would soon find themselves with limited visibility.

The squad soon found itself having to breach one of the larger warehouses to gain entry to the complex. At a side entrance, the Chief ordered Miia to open the door, but it wouldn't budge.

"Locked," she said. "Permission to break it down?"

"Granted," said the Chief. "But be careful."

The Echidna slammed her tail against the metal frame of the door, denting it. She frowned and tried again, busting the door out of its hinges.

Saren immediately moved to cover her from the inevitable enemy fire, but it never came. Curious. Given the presence of both Covenant as geth ships, the Chief would have expected more enemy resistance.

A lot more.

"Saren, take point. Draco, cover our rear."

In a loose formation, the four pushed deeper into the structure, which had been designed as an administrative complex of some sorts. Lots of tables and chairs, not a whole lot of sealed rooms. Oddly enough, most of the furniture had been broken and stashed against the entrances and windows, like the civilians had been barricading themselves inside. There were traces of gunfire, impacts on the walls. Ballistic, not plasma. Small arms, most likely.

The Chief swept the complex corner by corner, keeping a constant eye on his motion tracker. His instincts screamed at him that something was wrong, that he needed to stay cautious, and Cortana kept herself quiet, perhaps sensing the same.

"Shit," muttered Miia. "Shit…"

"Something on your mind?" Asked the Chief.

"I'm using my pit-vision to search for heat, but…"

"And?"

"Nothing! Not a damn thing! This place is deserted!" Though she restricted her voice to a whisper, the Chief heard her unease nonetheless. "But I detect traces of blood."

Blood-?

The Master Chief whirled around, his finger on the trigger. His motion tracker showed a friendly target blurring past them, but that couldn't be. They had just cleared that area.

For a few tense moments, the Chief held his position, scanning his six with his rifle. He didn't see anything and Draco would have pointed out if there had been any movement. Unless the civilians had learnt how to fly, there was no way they would have missed it.

The Dragon-girl shot him a questioning look.

"There may be movement around us," he told his team through SQUADCOM.

"May be?" Saren skeptically asked.

The Chief didn't respond. Soon, the layout of the complex changed, with wide-open working areas making way for two hallways, one to the left and one to the right, each with a good many doors on either side. Most of the doors were closed.

"Miia, Saren, take the left one. Draco, on me."

The sounds of their boots hitting the metal floor echoed off the walls as the Spartan and the Dragon slowly, but methodically cleared out the side rooms. They found a confusing lack of people, but an abundancy of abandoned stuff. Clothes, personal belongings, sometimes even handguns. It became increasingly obvious that the rooms had been ransacked, and there were plenty of signs of struggles, yet no blood.

Halfway through the hallway, Saren contacted him over the COM. " _Spartan, we have found the geth."_

"Copy. Are you under fire?"

" _No. Someone cleared them out."_

"We're on our way."

The Chief and the Corporal systematically cleared out the rooms, doubled back to where they came from and joined the others in their own hallway. There, in a small room, the broken and mangled bodies of at least a dozen geth soldiers had been unceremoniously dumped on a pile.

"When you said someone cleared them out…" Began the Chief.

"I meant it literally," replied Saren. The turian agent crossed his arms and gestured with his head. "See how they were killed?"

The Master Chief knelt down next to the pile of robotic corpses. "Cortana?"

" _Analyzing…a bit more to the left...now a bit to the right…got it. It appears these geth were killed in close quarters combat. There are puncture marks all over their chassis, as well as claw marks. Several have been killed with blunt force trauma as well."_

"No weapon fire…" said the Chief.

"Indeed. If it was not the Covenant who killed them, what did?"

"Maybe the civilians?" Suggested Miia. "Let the geth kill the Covenant, then kill off the geth?"

"Then where are the Covenant bodies? Furthermore, where are the civilians? There are little Liminals on Therum, and mostly Citadel species."

"Only one way to find out," said the Chief. "Clear the rest of the building, then move to the next. Draco, take point."

As the squad searched the rest of the complex, the Chief tried to make sense of what they had found thus far. The entire place was abandoned, but no belongings had been taken. The buildings had been barricaded, the defenders had disappeared after a struggle, but not blood or viscera remained. To top it off, the invading geth forces had been dispatched in close combat by what looked like Liminal combatants, but there were almost no Liminals on Therum.

Where were these combatants? Or the Covenant?

Eventually, they cleared out the rest of the administrative complex. They found neither survivors nor hostiles, and the Spartan was about to signal his team to breach the next building when Cortana suddenly stopped him. " _Wait, I'm catching a signal. It's faint, it's very faint."_

The Chief raised his fist, signaling the team to stop. "A signal?" He asked.

" _As I said, it's faint one. The signal resembles a power pack for the most part."_

"Like the one found inside dropships?"

" _Or cryotubes, engineering suites, HRUNTING or YGGDRASIL systems. Point is, it's UNSC gear."_

"Cortana found the signal of UNSC military equipment," the Chief told his team. "That's where we're headed next."

The administrative complex had been somewhat difficult to breach, which led the Chief to believe that the next structure might be equally, if not more difficult to get into. However, after having crossed half a dozen meters out in the open, they managed to enter the complex through the main entrance, whereupon they stumbled across a hastily-erected barricade made of pipes, plates of steel, outer door panels, machinery and crude welds. A large hole had been torn through its middle segment, ripped asunder by hands stronger than humans.

The Master Chief was the first one through, followed by Draco, Saren and Miia. He noticed that the claw marks on the barricade were the same as the ones on the geth. That suggested the ones who did the barricading weren't the ones who had killed the geth.

What was going on here?

They entered what looked like a living area, with several smaller rooms divided by glass windows and thin, metal frames. The rooms had been painted in a bright white hue, but what little sunlight came in through the boarded-up windows did little to make the place shine.

"Eww…what's that stench?" Miia suddenly said. She took a deep sniff, then scowled. "Oh, that _stinks_!"

The Master Chief could smell a foul odor as well. A thick, filthy reek, that brought him back to Installation 04 and Delta Halo and the Ark, as well as a dozen other engagements.

A sickly feeling settled in his stomach. "Miia," he warned.

"It's coming from here!"

"Lieutenant- "

The eager Echidna slammed the butt of her rifle against the locking mechanism of a nearby door, knocking it off. She then flung the door open with her tail and scanned the dark interior with her rifle. "What…what is…?"

Two seconds passed as she stared at the contents of the room. Then, the muscles in her tail went slack and she stumbled to the side, leaning against the frame of the door. She hunched over and retched.

The Master Chief wordlessly shook his head and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let it out, Lieutenant," he told her. He'd seen hundreds of soldiers react like this throughout the war; the last thing they needed was someone berating them for not being able to stomach sights which normal, functioning people were never even meant to see. "Concentrate on your breathing."

Saren scowled. "I believe we found our civilians."

Draco peered through the opening of the door, raised a blond eyebrow and snorted. Disgusted, she turned away from the sight.

The Chief brushed past the Dragon and looked inside, expecting the worst.

It wasn't the worst, but it also wasn't what he expected. Inside the room lay what could only be described as a decomposing pile of desiccated corpses, strewn about and tossed atop one another with all the bother of a machine. Two turians, three asari, a salarian, something that looked like a Centaur and, strangely enough, the ruined remains of two Elites and three Jackals.

"Covenant," said the Chief. He didn't expect the sight to sicken him, and the lack of a physical response did not surprise him. He knew that it wasn't a good thing to get used to sights like these, but damned if it wasn't useful. "And some of the missing civilians."

"Why…" Miia moaned between pants. "Why dump them like the geth?"

Exactly like the geth, it appeared. "No civilian or combatant would leave their own fallen with the enemy's. This was the work of a fourth party."

Saren glanced at Miia with a disapproving look, before walking straight into the room to scan the bodies with his omni-tool.

" _Chief?"_ Said Cortana. " _This place went silent a week ago. These bodies look like they've been here quite a while. Either they were killed before Therum went dark, or…"_

"Or whatever killed them, left them in a grizzly state."

" _Exactly."_

"Hmm…" Muttered Saren.

"Did you find anything?"

"These species are all badly shriveled, like they've been left in the heat for weeks. It does not add up with the timeline."

"Whoever did this, killed those geth as well."

"Meaning we are not facing the Covenant or the geth, but a different enemy."

The two looked at each other for a few moments, before Saren clicked his mandibles and looked away. "We must keep moving. The asari might be in danger."

"Might be?" Said the Chief, before turning towards his team. "Check your targets as you move. First contact is unlikely to be civilian."

The team left the disturbing casualties behind, and the Spartan moved to breach the nearest door. Then, his motion tracker indicated a contact: right in front of him.

"Trouble," he muttered over the COM, before whipping out his shotgun. "Cover."

He slowly reached out for the locked door in front of him, noticed the inert display and sighed. Seeing as the power was down, the thing wouldn't budge. "Locked. Cortana?"

" _Pulling up schematics now. The power plant is all the way on the other side of the outpost. Unless someone activates that, we won't be able to access this door without making a lot of noise."_

At this point, the Master Chief was almost willing to make a lot of noise, if only to draw the enemy out. Too much about this situation didn't make sense, and it made him feel uneasy. Was he about to lead his team into an ambush?

But they were wasting time here. Every second he hesitated was a second Liara T'Soni could die. With that in his mind, the Chief reached out and punched a hole through the locking mechanism, before tearing the entire door out of its frames.

The creature that sat at the far end of the dark room, flinched at the sudden intrusion. It turned around, glaring at the Spartan with blood-red eyes and a vicious snarl.

"Relax," said the Chief. "I'm a Spartan, with the UNSC. We're here to help."

The creature rose to its full length. It looked like an asari, with pale skin, dark bags underneath her crimson eyes and fingernails that hadn't seen a pedicure in decades.

She hissed at him.

The Spartan resisted the urge to raise his gun. "Ma'am? Could you come towards me, with your hands where I can see them? Take it easy- "

With an ear-splitting scream, the asari lunged for him, opening her mouth farther than humanly possible to reveal a series of long, sharp teeth.

The Master Chief took aim-

 _Mendoza, come on, let's get the hell out of here. I know they did something to you but the medics can fix it._

\- and found himself unable to pull the trigger. Something about the way her face contorted as she threw herself at him reminded him of the marines he had been forced to put down on Installation 04, and he hesitated.

Gunfire erupted from his side, and blood sprang from the back of the asari's head. Her features contorted in a soundless snarl, the alien slumped to the ground.

Next to the Spartan, Saren holstered his pistol again. "A bit slow on the draw there, Spartan? I had believed you to be a better shot."

The Chief ignored the turian's snide comment and approached the fallen asari, trying to banish the memories from his mind. "It's not Liara T'Soni."

"Chief!" Miia said with shock. "Are you alright?"

Saren sighed in response, but before he could say anything else, the Chief spoke up. "It's one of the missing civilians. Something changed her."

"Changed her?! How!"

He gestured at the corpse. "Like that."

" _Pronounced canines, ocular condition leading to red irises, loss of pigment in the skin, elongation of the nails…either the asari found a way to go feral like some animals…"_

"Not funny," growled the Spartan.

" _Or someone messed with her biological makeup. Right, sorry."_

"Someone was bound to hear that," said the Chief. "We're going hot. Breach and clear, take out every hostile in the area."

"Rules of engagement?" Asked Miia.

"When they spot you, shoot to kill," the Chief sternly said. "Don't hesitate, don't show mercy."

"Like you just did?" Mused Saren.

The Chief glared at him. "Verify you targets. If they talk, hold your fire. Corporal, acknowledge that order."

Dracosa gave him a brief, if somewhat mocking salute, but the Spartan would take what he could get.

" _Chief, finding that power pack we picked up might help us. If something's still active in this outpost, we might be able to use it."_

"Got it."

"Hey, at least we know what killed those geth, right?" Miia jokingly said.

Nobody bothered to tell her that it wasn't necessarily a good thing.

~0~

* * *

 **Nova Yekaterinbur**

 **19:30**

Commander Lillim Shepard watched the sun disappear behind a distant mountain. Night was falling rapidly now and she could not help but feel somewhat concerned because of that.

To her left, Wrex and Kaidan were bantering.

"So, this is Therum?" Said Wrex. "It's hot and dusty…I kinda like it."

"Seriously?" Said Kaidan. "One misstep and we'll fall in a pool of lava."

Wrex shrugged. "Like I said; I like it. Makes me think of home."

To her right, Tali was quietly confessing one of her fears to Garrus. "Do you think we will encounter Covenant soldiers here?"

"Dunno. I kinda hope so; I really want to know what the humans had to face during the war."

"R-really? Isn't that dangerous? Like, _really_ dangerous?"

"Meh. Figure it worked this way; the more people fight them, the less evil they can do."

"I…suppose that works. You do know shields don't work against them, right?"

"Eh…yeah…that's right. Doesn't matter though; if you keep your enemy suppressed and stay sharp, your training will see you through without getting hit. It's all about the training."

"But I don't have any training!"

The panic in Tali's voice gained a pronounced edge.

"Oh, but…we do, you see? See Kaidan and Ashley and Wrex? And the Commander? As the humans say it, we are all ultimate badassess!"

Lillim couldn't prevent a giggle from escaping past her lips. Garrus shot her an annoyed look. "Something on your mind, Commander?"

"Nothing, darling. Nothing…"

Joker had dropped them off at the far end of Nova Yekaterinbur, trusting that Liara would be hiding out the attack somewhere safe. The problem was that they had not taken any enemy fire when they had been dropped. As of now, they still had to take enemy fire, which suggested that the Covenant and geth forces were too busy. Either with each other, or with the local population.

" _Nobody's home…"_ Jenkins muttered over the radio as he approached the compound. He was the designated point man for this operation, but Lillim wouldn't dream of letting him go without cover. Every gun the squad possessed was aimed in the direction he was marching. " _Looks deserted."_

"What do you see?" Asked Shepard.

" _Place is boarded up, ma'am. Looks like the civvies didn't want anyone to enter."_

"I see. We're coming up on your six, hold your position."

" _Yes ma'am"_

They rendezvoused at the young Marine's position, still without making contact with the enemy. Jenkins stood at the entrance of a small structure, which was loosely connected to a larger complex.

"This is a lot of ground to cover," she said. "Kaidan, taken Ashley and Garrus, flank around left. Joker? Pull up the schematics on Therum. Find out why we have no power."

"Yes, Commander," Kaidan said, snapping to attention. "Gunnery Chief, Vakarian, on me."

Joker, meanwhile, took his time replying. " _Uh…looks like you're close to the power plant. According to the codex, it's an old design. A GPC, Generator Power Complex. You'll need to manually reactivate it by…yeah, by flipping a few switches. Should be easy enough."_

"Ma'am?" Said Jenkins. "Orders?"

"Joker is uploading the coordinates, Jenkins. Until he's finished, we push deeper into the outpost. Breach that door, we're right behind you."

"Yes ma'am!" Jenkins enthusiastically called. He unswung his shotgun, pumped two random shots into the door and followed up with a kick. Said kick only served to send the boy stumbling backwards, whereupon he lost his footing and fell on his behind.

"Man down?" Asked Tali.

"Only when he's bleeding, sweetie."

Grumbling under his breath, Wrex swaggered up towards the door and busted it out of its hinges with a single kick. "Aliens…" he swore.

"Hey!" Yelled Jenkins. "I was working on that!"

"Maybe next time, Private," Shepard told him. "On your feet, take point."

"Ah! Y-yes ma'am!"

Jenkins hurried inside of the building, ducking underneath Wrex's extended arm as the krogan took aim at something inside of the room.

"Wrex?"

Outside, the shadows quickly lengthened as the sun disappeared completely.

"Clear!" Jenkins yelled after a few moments.

Te next room appeared more like a reception than anything else, a nearly-empty room approximately ten by fifteen meters large. Lillim understood that it was clear, and it seemed devoid of contact, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Wrex had to be feeling that, too. He still had his shotgun out, aiming at the far end of the room. His dark eyes were flashing back and forth, scanning the place.

What little sunlight remained, now faded away.

A sense of unease crept on the Elder Devil and she felt a shiver run down her spine. Her instincts were screaming at her: _get out._

"Urdnot," called Shepard. "Do you feel that?"

The krogan growled in response. "My gut's telling me we're being hunted."

"What?" Shrieked Tali. "H-hunted? By who!"

"Mine too. Where from?"

"Can't say. Either I'm getting old, or we're being surrounded as we speak."

Tali frantically looked around, holding her shotgun in trembling hands. "I don't see anything!"

"Jenkins, come back. Cover our left. Wrex, focus on the right, the front. I've got our back."

Her teammembers did as they were told. Tali obeyed, albeit she was still trembling. Lillim understood why; she hadn't thought aliens could feel the subtle shift in the atmosphere induced by the enemy's hostile, but apparently Wrex could. That made him much more valuable, albeit much more dangerous. Tali and Jenkins didn't feel that something was out to hurt them, so they could only take the sudden change in tactics at face value.

Something moved, outside of the building. Lillim could see it dart past the boarded-up windows, a flicker of shadows.

"Kaidan," she spoke over the COM. "Brace for hostile contact, we are not alone out here. Seal yourself inside the generator complex and watch the entrances."

A clawed hand appeared near one of the windows, then something heaved itself upwards, up on the roof.

" _Commander? I…yes Commander. What about civilians?"_

Something hissed at the far end of the room, on the other side of the window. Even though the sun had set, Lillim could still see that something was now standing in front of it, _leering_ at them.

"The colony went silent a week ago. I believe there are no civilians left."

" _What?"_

"Commander!" Yelled Jenkins. "I don't want to scare you, but I think something's out there!"

She sighed. "Yes Jenkins, we see it. Wait for positive identification; we don't want to shoot civilians. Tali?"

"Keelah…yes Commander!"

Something scurried over the roof. Scratching noises as whatever it was skittered across the building.

" _Shepard! We've found the power plant! We're barricading ourselves inside, now. Williams said she saw movement!"_

"Oh, I believe that alright. PID, Kaidan. Watch your targets. We'll try to make our way towards you."

" _Copy that, Commander. Be safe!"_

"Contacts!" Yelled Jenkins. "To the left!"

They pivoted to their left flank, where... _something_ was trying to break in. Clawing at the plates and pieces of wood that had been bolted against the window, attempting to pry through.

"What are those things!" Shouted Tali.

Shepard didn't know, she couldn't get a feel for them. Whatever these creatures were, they meant business. "Warning shots, one salvo."

Her squad did as she ordered, pelting the general direction of the hostiles with a series of shots that were impossible to recognize as anything else than gunfire.

They didn't seem to care. The hostiles continued their assault on the windows, now reinforced by a series of hostiles at the other side of the building as well.

"Enough warnings!" Rumbled Wrex.

"I hear that. Squad, open fire. Short, controlled bursts. Jenkins, Wrex switch to AR's. Tali, pistol. Don't let them get close!"

The four of them opened up in earnest, showering the hostiles with an entire storm of mass accelerated metal slugs. They tore through the walls, shredding the combatants attempting to breach the building. On the upside, their concentrated barrage was enough to punch through the walls as well as everything trying to tear them down.

On the downside, their concentrated barrage was enough to punch through the walls. As the team attempted to stave off the unknown hostiles, they unwittingly destroyed the one thing that kept them at a distance.

The creatures started tearing through the weakened walls, displaying a great amount of physical strength. They pushed through and started streaming inside the building, easily two dozen of them, coming from all directions.

Lillim recognized them and in that moment, she knew that there would be no civilian survivors on Therum.

These things, screaming and roaring for their blood, _were_ the civilians. Driven insane by some outside force, a collection of Covenant soldiers, turians, asari and salarians came at them like a pack of animals.

"Fighting retreat!" Ordered Shepard. "Sweep low, target their knees! Try to avoid killing shots!"

Wrex bellowed and clobbered a turian that came too close. Then, he shrouded himself in a dull, blue glow and thrust his hand out, Biotically Throwing a handful of the assailants to the floor. They immediately leapt back to their feet the moment they regained control over their limbs.

"Those are Citadel species!" Cried Tali over the irregular thumping of her shotgun, which she had pulled out to deal with the rapidly-approaching hostiles. "What happened to them!"

The sound of groaning metal lasted for a few more seconds, before several sections of the ceiling collapsed. Smaller creatures, agile and fast, darted towards them.

They were unable to shift their fire quick enough and the monstrosities were upon them. Elongated beaks filled with razor-sharp teeth snapped at limbs, clawed hands raked across exposed flesh and Lillim was forced to tear her sidearm from her hip and fire it blindly at the two creatures attempting to drag Tali to the ground.

The 12.7mm Semi-Armor-Piercing High-Explosive rounds tore through the hostiles, blowing large holes in their bodies and spraying the ground with purple blood.

 _Jackals,_ realized the elder devil. _Covenant Jackals!_

Wrex bellowed and grabbed one of the creatures trying to maul his face, headbutting it. He then grabbed the second one, headbutted that one as well and threw their limp bodies at Tali, knocking the remaining creature off of her.

Between the nonstop fire coming from their rifles and the blue flashes from Wrex's Biotics, Shepard noticed that these things looked different from what their species were meant to look like. They were all a great deal paler, almost like their skin was devoid of pigment. Their eyes were burning orbs of red, while their teeth seemed to have turned to even rows of incisors.

"Oh no," she muttered, thinking she had discovered the source of this apparent hate-plague. "Wrex, shut the door."

The krogan waited until Jenkins, who slowed down to cover them, was inside of the next room, before throwing the door shut.

"That won't hold them!" Yelled Jenkins. "I'm overheating!"

"Tali, get the door!"

"B-but there's no power!"

"Try something!"

The quarian scrambled towards the door, which wobbled dangerously under the impact of at least a dozen infected civilians. Jenkins and Wrex slammed against the door to keep it shut, buying Tali the time she needed to fumble with the lock.

"No power…Keelah, what…okay, I might be able to…overload here…"

The doors mechanism suddenly beeped and a green light flicked on.

"There, it's locked!"

Wrex and Jenkins stepped away from the door, obviously not impressed by the less-than-sturdy metal frame.

"We need to keep moving," said Shepard. "The initial population was two-hundred…I estimate we only dealt with a quarter of their number, perhaps even less."

"A quarter?" Gasped Jenkins. "Shit man, where are all the others?"

In the distance, the Commander could hear the distant clatter of automatic weapon fire, and guessed that someone was putting up one hell of a fight. "Over in that direction, I assume."

"Are we going to charge _towards_ the gunfire?" Asked Tali.

Wrex chuckled. "You say that like it's a _bad_ decision."

~0~

* * *

Inside of the Generator Power Complex, Kaidan Alenko and the rest of his group finally managed to get the power back on. A good thing, as most, if not all of the outpost's systems had been disabled before. Someone had taken a sharp object to the wires after deactivating the generator. It was almost as if they _wanted_ the colony to remain out of power.

It was impossible to know who did it, however. Though the complex looked secure enough, it had been used as point for other survivors to make a stand as well. Their shriveled bodies had been dumped into a dark corner, leaving it uncertain as to where the hostiles were.

And that wasn't all. When the power came back on, Garrus managed to find a working terminal. What they found on it, wasn't good.

"Alenko to Shepard. Come in, Commander."

There was a static-filled pause over the COM, and then the Commander yelled, " _Kaidan? Please tell me you have good news!"_

"I…yes ma'am! We got the GPC running again! Garrus pulled up some legs you really need to hear" Looks like the survivors dumped all the intel they had into its systems before they were caught."

A burst of gunfire came over the COM, followed by the Commander telling him, " _Let's hear it."_

"The colonists found a functioning Cryotube, which had been ejected by a UNSC ship. They opened it eight days ago."

" _You're telling me this mess was started by the inhabitant of that cryopod? What was inside of it?"_

Kaidan flicked through another journal, hoping to answer that question. "According to the medical officer on station, they had no idea what it was. She said that, whatever that pod contained, it wasn't human."

" _Then we need to find that Cryotube fast. Whatever it contained, is the key to this entire outbreak."_

~0~

* * *

Deep within the bowels of Nova Yekaterinbur, anarchy reigned. Freaks driven to an animalistic frenzy virtually threw themselves at the squad, which replied in kind with copious amounts of gunfire.

The Master Chief pushed forwards, guns blazing, towards the mob of monsters. Cortana talked to him, told him something about a battle that took place in high orbit, but he didn't have the time to respond to her. Miia kept hesitating, kept waiting too long to pull the trigger and subsequently kept getting herself into close quarters with the ferocious enemies.

The fourth time that happened, the Chief whipped out his sidearm and shot a rabid salarian in the head, drilling a neat hole in the alien´s head. It collapsed, the back of its head blown wide open by the bullet.

He needed answers. Shooting his way through a small army of rabid civilians wasn't his forte. Yet when he was faced with the fact that a part of his squad didn't even _attempt_ to open fire, he knew what he had to do.

"Miia!" He barked. "They're not civilians, fire your gun!"

"Y-yes sir! But they're unarmed!"

One of said unarmed combatants lunged for Draco, its jaws snapping shut just short of her face. She grappled with it for a second, before throwing it to the ground and stomping on its throat.

" _-after which the UNSC decided to colonize the planet. Funny how that goes. Say, were you listening to me?"_

The Chief punched a charging Grunt in the gabba and shot a pair of Jackals in their heads. A surprise attack had ruined his silencer, meaning that every shot he fired now served to attract more of the freaks. "Not really, no. Lieutenant, sweep low, target the legs. Disable them in close quarters, just don't let them get you!"

"Sir!"

Cortana sighed. " _Judging by these acute symptoms and the almost rabies-like behavior patterns, coupled with the knowledge of the previous engagement, I might be able to hypothesize what happened."_

"Great." The Chief watched Saren dodge a charging Elite, which lost its footing and fell. He quickly shot the alien before it could get back up. "What happened?"

" _You're almost near that power pack. Once you reach it, I can tell you why it's so important."_

Well, since they were almost at the HUD Cortana had placed, they were about to see.

" _Additionally, it might be useful for you to know that we've got company. Someone reactivated the power generator. I've also picked up radio communications in the outpost. It seems Commander Shepard caught up to us."_

"I thought I heard mass accelerator weapons," replied the Chief. "Maybe she can find the asari."

" _What? Chief, no! You should be saying, 'maybe she can serve as bait to draw these creatures out!'"_

The Chief ignored that comment and pushed on, eager to reach the objective. He was, however, not about to lose sight of the true objective of the mission. "Saren, break off and try to locate the asari. Stay low, we'll draw out the enemy force and cover you."

"Very well," replied the turian agent. "I will keep you informed."

Saren split off from their force and circled around, heading back to the outer complexes. The cover of the night, coupled with the sudden reactivation of the lights around the outpost, created a chaotic picture. The Chief saw several hostiles stop to pursue Saren, following the Spectre into the cover of the night without difficulty.

Yet those pursuing _him_ and his two teammates suddenly stopped. They flinched, threw up their limbs and staggered backwards, as if protecting themselves from something.

The Chief halted. What was going on?

A second later, it hit him. The lights! The creatures shied away from the light!

"They're not a fan of the light," he told his teammates. "Push on to the Operation center. Our objective is there."

The lull in the fight didn't last long. Even as Miia and Draco breached the Operation center, the creatures started taking out the lights. They threw stones, pieces of metal and other heavy objects at them, or simply ran up and leapt for them, screaming as they did.

" _Up the stairs, second door on your right. Don't forget to lock the doors!"_

The Chief did as she said, although he was pretty sure the enemy could simply break down the doors without much trouble. The interior of the room was lit, but he didn't know if the SOB's could find a way to disable them as well. He wasn't going to risk it. "How close are we?"

" _Just around the corner. There, there it is!"_

The Spartan approached the thick, metal door, made sure the coast was clear, then lowered his rifle. "Guard the entrance," he told his team, before kicking down the door. He brought his rifle up. "Clear."

" _This is it."_

The Chief ran his eyes across the object that stood in the middle of the room. "That's…a cryo-chamber."

" _Exactly."_

The pod had seen better days. The frame had been removed by hand and discarded, and not by the most technically-savvy people, from the looks of it. The inhabitant was gone.

" _There is a terminal there,"_ said Cortana.

The Chief removed her data chip from the socket in his helmet. He felt her leave his mind, felt the heat rush back into his head, pulsing with the rhythm of his heart. Then, he slotted her chip into the terminal's port.

Miia stuck her head around the corner. "Does that mean Cortana can't hear us anymore?"

Cortana's reply came from the terminal's speakers. _"I can still process information through the Chief's suit, Lieutenant. Why, did you want to say unflattering things about me?"_

"N-not at all!" Stuttered the Echidna. "I was just thinking…it's hard to have some privacy when your every move is watched by an AI."

" _For your information, some people like that,_ " replied Cortana. Through her private channel with the MJOLNIR's systems, she said, " _I've found what I'm looking for."_

Another voice came though the speakers. It had a distinct flanging edge, meaning its owner was a turian. Or used to be one. " _The doctor's got no idea how long the girl was inside of there. This planet hasn't seen a major battle in two years. I asked him if she -it, I don't know- could have survived for two years. I didn't receive a clear answer."_

"Two years?" Asked the Chief.

"I don't know. Could be a batarian attack?"

"Maybe."

Cortana played the next file, this one belonging to a female. " _– not stress enough, we cannot risk opening it yet. We don't know what sort of procedures the humans use to thaw their people, we don't know what chemicals are involved. She might already be dead, or she might be carrying dangerous micro-organisms with her. No, until we know how to proceed properly, I will not risk it, Sergeant."_

"That turian must have been the turian," said Miia. Draco was listening in now too, but the Chief didn't expect much ideas from her. The woman talked even less than he did. "Do you think he wanted her to open it?"

"Let's hear it."

A moment later, the third file played. " _The doctor insists on letting her stay in there…but she looks like a soldier to me. You don't leave soldiers behind. According to technicians, the pod is failing. It won't be soon it breaks down, and when it does, she will die with it. I cannot allow that. On the blood of my ancestors, I will find a way to save her."_

"The turian couldn't let her die when the cryotube stopped working," said Miia. "That's so romantic…"

"Except releasing whatever was inside, led to this mess," the Chief sternly replied.

"You don't know that. Sir."

The Chief simply stared at her while Cortana played the fourth -and last- file. It was the Sergeant again, who was grunting as he worked with what sounded like tools and heavy equipment.

" – _found an old manual with the salarian. If I do this…right…I can save her…and work away the debt…I build up…back on Shanxi."_

The turian dropped something, grumbled about it, then continued with his work. An alarm went off inside the room, but it didn't last long, so the Chief guessed that turian quickly disabled it.

" _There we go. There we go…take it easy, girl. You're safe."_

" _Safe…"_

The Chief frowned. That was a new voice; a female, sounding rather young.

" _Yes, safe. Come here, let me get you out of that thing…spirits, you don't look like any Liminal I've ever seen before. What are you?"_

" _No…"_

" _What?"_

" _No, don't…stay away…"_

" _Don't worry miss, you're safe here- "_

That was when the screaming started, after the Sergeant presumably got too close. The audio file ended with the gurgles of the turian being strangled, followed by a wet ripping noise.

The Chief remained silent for a few moments, during which Miia and Draco exchanged a look. He wordlessly retrieved Cortana from the terminal, then switched to his shotgun again. "Did you two hear that?"

They nodded.

"You were listening?"

They nodded.

"Then who is watching the hostiles?"

Again, the two scaly soldiers exchanged a look. As if on cue, one of the lights on the hallway flickered and died, soon followed by the noise of glass breaking.

"Uh-oh…we've got hostiles in the building!" Shouted Miia.

The Master Chief rapidly assessed the situation. Whatever had been freed from that cryotube rapidly went to work on infecting these civilians and Covenant soldiers alike. The infected Citadel and Covenant species then wasted no time in tearing the geth apart…but how? What caused them to behave like this, change biologically as well?

"Watch for a rare or unknown Liminal race," ordered the Chief. "We need her alive for questioning."

Draco moved to the door, slamming into a charging turian and sending him tumbling down the stairs.

"What about the asari?" Asked Miia.

The Chief considered the mission objectives for a few moments. For a Spartan, a few moments didn't last longer than a second or two. He contemplated Liara T'Soni's possible training -none- her martial abilities -none- and her training – none- and calculated her chance to survive this mess by combat skills: none. He then thought up and discarded several other possibilities of her survival, until two possible explanations for her hypothetical survival remained, both revolving around her hiding this crisis out.

The first was that she had left the outpost, made for the surrounding area. Rocks, crevices, plenty of hiding spaces.

The second was that she was still inside the outpost, hiding in spaces these things couldn't get to. The first possibility was out; no food, no water. The second possibility limited her AO to small buildings on the fringe and buildings where these freaks wouldn't find her, places with limited visibility and mobility.

"The ducts…" he muttered. He contacted Saren. "Saren, the VIP might be hiding in the ventilation shafts."

The turian Spectre took a few moments to reply. " _Why do you think that?"_

"It's the only way she can survive this outbreak. An average civilian can last a week without food, but not without water. Search for areas with a supply of water available."

Draco glanced over her shoulder and muttered something to Miia. The Lieutenant was about to reply when a mutated asari leapt for her, aiming for her jugular. The Echidna uttered a cry of surprise and, raised her tail to protect herself, knocking the feral alien clean out of the window.

"Oh…I totally meant to do that."

With hostiles closing in around them from all directions, the asari was at risk. With that in mind, at risk of offending Cortana and her ridiculous investment in the challenge part, the Master Chief did what every other soldier searching for a VIP would do: he contacted the other assets in the area.

~0~

* * *

"His face!" Tali cried out as she backed away from the twitching Elite corpse. "It was trying to eat his face!"

Wrex unloaded two more shots into the fallen elite to make sure it was dead. "Don't worry; it was just trying to eat his throat, not his face."

Tali was silent for a moment. "That's even worse!"

"No, it's not," said Jenkins. "Momma would still recognize me without a throat. How would I face her without a face?"

Wrex chuckled, though Tali seemed horrified. Lillim merely sighed, more concerned with the idea that they were actively gunning down civilians than that she civilians were trying to eat them.

Worse still, they had not yet achieved their mission's objectives. Her hopes that the Matriarch's daughter was still alive growing slimmer with each passing minute.

Static crackled across the COM and the Master Chief of all people contacted her. " _Commander. Be advised, my team is in the area. The VIP might be hiding in the ventilation shafts to avoid the hostiles, someplace near water."_

She thought she heard gunfire in the area. "Thanks for the information. You are not in a position to find her first?"

" _All that matters, is her extraction. Sierra One-One-Seven, out."_

"Who that?" Asked Wrex, noticing the Commander talking to someone.

"The Spartan's team is here. They are fending off the creatures. Wrex, Tali, change of plans. The asari is most likely hiding in the ventilation shafts. We rendezvous with Kaidan, Ashley and Garrus north of the power generator and renew the search."

"Hey Commander," said Jenkins. "What is some sort of geth weapon, like those things back on Eden Prime?"

"You heard what Kaidan discovered; the colony went dark after they found the cryotube."

"Yeah, but…what if the tube was a viral weapon sent by the geth?"

Tali's reply didn't wait a second. "The geth don't use viral weapons; they have no need for them. They can simply kill organics by bombing them from orbit."

"Alright, so _not_ a geth weapon. Maybe the Covenant wanted to test their new bioweapon here?"

Wrex grunted. "Kid, you're _really_ not the smartest back home, are you?"

"Hey, I studied back on Eden Prime!"

Lillim cocked an eyebrow. "You did? Studied what, exactly?"

"I err…well…sociological studies! I can talk to people and they tell can tell me things!"

"Did you finish that study?" Tali skeptically asked.

"Yeah, no. I joined up with the UNSC Marine Corps! First to fight! Just like you, Wrex!"

"Hahaha...wait, you're serious?"

Lillim sighed and made a mental note to teach Jenkins that emulating the angry krogan Battlemaster was not the best way to live life. "Let's…let's just keep searching for that asari…"

~0~

* * *

"Up ahead," called the Master Chief. "We haven't checked that building yet."

Miia looked at the building. "That…looks like a church."

The Chief could see what she meant; old fashioned, built with heavy, red stones and furbished with colorful glass and gemstones. It was built a distance away from the rest of the outpost and was easily three stories high. It looked like an ideal position for a sniper…

…or an escaped viral Liminal. His motion tracker indicated movement; a single unidentified target was moving around inside and somehow, he doubted it was the asari.

" _Looks like a church, but it's not. Seeing as Therum is a colony mostly inhabited by aliens, the UNSC ordered the construction of a Temple Complex,"_ said Cortana, using the Chief's external speakers.

"A Temple Complex?"

" _Just your average praying house, where species with different ideological and religious belief systems can pray to their deity of choice without having to go to a specific building. You could, for example, find a turian, an asari, a Hel and a Salamander all praying to different deities inside of the same Temple Complex., in different rooms."_

"Sounds handy," said Miia. "That way, you don't need to worry about potentially offending people by only building a place of worship for one particular belief system."

It sounded more like a waste of money and resources to the Chief, but he kept his opinion to himself. "We're clearing it out. Draco, Miia, behind me. We- "

" _Actually,"_ said Cortana, " _Your MJOLNIR protects you against any airborne pathogens the Liminal might be carrying If she's the source of the infection and either Miia or Draco got bit, scratched or even drooled on…"_

"They might get infected," finished the Chief. He hadn't even considered that. "Lieutenant, Corporal, change of plans. Stay here and guard the entrance. Don't let anyone in or out."

Draco's reply came with the cocking of her shotgun, while Miia verbally confirmed them. He would have to talk to the Dragon about proper confirmation of orders in the battlefield. But for now, he had a potentially contagious vector to deal with.

With Cortana keeping a close eye on his motion tracker, the Spartan entered the structure. In contrast to the other complexes, with the constant screaming and roaring of the feral aliens, it was almost completely silent inside within the embrace of the stone walls of the temple.

But the Chief was no fool; he wouldn't take the silence as a sign of safety. There were plenty of shadows in the temple, plenty of hiding spaces ideal for ambushes. The central room was massive, easily a dozen meters high. It was dominated by a series of wooden benches, while a series of hallways to the left and to the right likely led to individual rooms.

The Spartan frowned; he wasn't looking forward to clearing those out.

…then again, he might not need to. His motion tracker indicated movement, almost right on top of him, and the Chief whirled around to confront his enemy.

Nothing. His flanks were clear, as was his rear. But the sudden displacement of the air around him led him to believe that he wasn't necessarily alone; something was skulking around nearby.

He decided to attempt a more diplomatic solution. "I know you're in here," he called. "I don't want to hurt you. I'm a Spartan, with the United Nations Space Command. If you come out, we can talk this out."

More movement. The wind turned, howling through the empty corridors, while the shadows around him almost seem to flicker with excitement. It was an eerie feeling, one that the Chief was not familiar with.

Seemingly from nowhere, the same young woman he heard on the audio file Cortana found spoke up. "Human…you need to leave."

The Chief pivoted. Where did that voice come from? "I won't. What happened here?"

"Please…I didn't know…I was so _hungry…_ I couldn't control myself."

Her voice didn't come from nowhere, it came from all _around_ him. The Spartan lacked at least two sets of eyes if he wanted to keep his flanks secure. He decided to back up against one of the pillars, so he wouldn't get ambushed from behind. "They broke you from your cryochamber, without proper procedure. It was bound to go wrong."

"No, not that. The others -they can cure it, if they get to the them in time. Humans, monsters -but not them."

"The aliens?"

"I…I still …you must _leave_!"

Her voice adopted a hard edge, a desperation that surprised the Chief. "I can't," he calmly replied. "This needs to stop. I won't hurt you- "

" _Chief!"_ Cried Cortana.

Too late. Without making any noise, the Liminal managed to drop down on him from above. Large, black wings enveloped his vison and something impacted near his neck seal, causing his shields to flare in proximity.

The Chief immediately reached out, keeping back from using lethal force, and tried to get a hold of whatever was attacking him.

His unyielding gauntlets clamped on empty air, and the hostile landed in front of him, several meters away.

The Master Chief held his ground; he had never seen a being like her before. She had the appearance of a thin girl with light colored hair, pointed ears and heavy shadows under her eyes. She also had large, leathery wings instead of arms, and long legs that ended in clawed feet that wouldn't look out of place on a Dragon. The membrane of her wings extended from her index finger and was suspended between the other fingers of her hands, which were almost as long as her entire arm. The only digit that was free of the membranous wings was her thumb, which ended in a long, black nail.

Even the Master Chief could not miss the expression of deep unhappiness on her face. "Why did you come here?" She softly asked.

"The colony went silent. We're here to discover why."

"Look no further…" she muttered.

The Chief took a step towards her. "Can you tell me- "

"Stay back!" She suddenly shouted.

He stopped.

"There's…something's wrong with me…" said the Liminal. "You need to get out, before it wants you too."

The girl was confused, obviously shaken by the unsuccessful thaw. Even Spartans could get a bit weird if they were thawed the wrong way. "You can't hurt me," he said, calmly approaching the distraught Liminal. "We have medical facilities on our ship, we can- "

A flicker of movement. A flash of darkness. A single thought crossed the Spartan's mind - _fast_ -! - before the girl had him prepped up against the pillar, her wings folded around his torso, her elongated thumbs holding down his shoulders.

Then his eyes met hers.

Her eyes were different. Like Shepard's, but different. Slit, yellow, completely inhuman. They grinded his thoughts to a halt, slowed down his instincts and reflexes to the point of nonexistence. Her claws ripped against his shielding, unable to get a proper hold on his armor.

John found himself unable to think. A white haze clouded his mind.

A woman cried his name in the back of his mind. She sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite remember her name.

The girl holding him bit down on his neck seal, was foiled by his shields and leant back again.

She talked to him, and though he did not understand her words, John felt the sudden desire to turn off his shields. It was just a hunch. A feeling. There was no…no basis for that thought. His reflexes offered no resistance, neither did his dulled instincts.

But the conditioning did. It kept him back, reminded him of who he was.

Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan One-One-Seven. John.

The super-soldier snapped to attention, like rousing from a dream, and slowly pushed the girl away from him. He grabbed a hold of her thin wrists, which felt even frailer than that of a human.

"H-how-!" She cried, but the Chief reached out and jabbed a needle into her neck, injecting her with a full dose of Polypseudomorphine. The drug started working almost immediately, and soon the Liminal went slack in his arms

" _Whew…"_ muttered Cortana. " _Glad you shook her off. Did not expect the hypnotic suggestion to be so strong."_

The Chief looked at the unconscious girl in his arms. She looked like she was still in her early twenties. So frail, yet capable of such destruction. "What is she?"

" _I almost can't believe it, but she's a Vampire."_

"What?"

" _A Liminal species, famed in mythology for their aversion to light-"_

…

 _The rooms had been painted in a bright white hue, but what little sunlight came in through the boarded-up windows did little to make the place shine_.

…

"- _and their inability to digest anything else than blood."_

…

" _Hmm…" Muttered Saren._

" _Did you find anything?"_

" _These species are all badly shriveled, like they've been left in the heat for weeks. It does not add up with the timeline."_

…

Cortana continued. " _And they are contagious. Humans and Liminals have a low chance of turning, but I doubt aliens have that same resistance."_

"That asari we saw, who attacked us," said the Chief. "She was infected by the Vampire."

…

 _The creature rose to its full length. It looked like an asari, with pale skin, dark bags underneath her crimson eyes and fingernails that hadn't seen a pedicure in decades._

…

" _All the hostiles were infected with the virus. Covenant, Citadel species, they were all infected."_

The Spartan turned back towards the exit with the Vampire in his arms. She was light; lighter than a girl her size should be. "But they didn't turn into full Vampires. They went feral."

" _Like rabies, a disease that was all but eliminated centuries ago. It caused certain animals to turn hyper-aggressive, attacking anything they could find. The Vampire virus must have been unable to turn them completely."_

"Can it be cured?

" _I don't think so, no."_

The Master Chief swore. "At least we put a stop to it. We should take the Vampire back to UNSC-controlled space."

" _Maybe. Vampires are rare, Chief. Almost extinct. I didn't even know the UNSC employed them anymore…where did that cryochamber come from though?"_

"Irrelevant. ONI will handle this. We still need to find that VIP."

"… _unless..."_

"Cortana?"

" _Well…the way I see it, the Vampire is UNSC personnel. The_ Reach _still runs on a skeleton crew and you need more capable teammembers to help you stop Desolas."_

The Master Chief couldn't believe his ears. "Cortana, the girl is a _viral_ threat. She contaminated the entire outpost, resulting in the loss of almost two-hundred civilians."

" _Yet she warned both you as that turian Sergeant to stay away. The thawing process went wrong, remember? One rabid turian could easily infect half a dozen other aliens. You can't blame her for everything."_

"She is still a security threat."

" _She is also a member of a very rare, very powerful race. You and your team have enough raw physical strength to outmuscle every other Spectre in existence. But the subtler things? The things Saren spoke about?"_

The Chief sighed. The less-than-uplifting conversation with the turian was still fresh on his mind. "Not every problem can be handled with force?"

" _Exactly. Having a teammate who can outright hypnotize people and fade away in shadows is invaluable! Think of the information she can gather, the potential enemies she can stop, her beautiful legs!"_

"Come again?"

" _My point is, Chief, you need allies. Allies who can perform the same duties as Blue Team could."_

The Chief gritted his teeth. "Don't- "

" _And you know it is true!"_

"Enough. I'll decide when we're not in the middle of hostile central. We still need to find that VIP, Cortana."

"… _I was kind of hoping either Saren or Shepard would have found her by now."_

~0~

* * *

The Spartan's advice of finding a place with water and ventilation vents had left the crew of the _Normandy_ with only one clear target to search; the habitation complex, where the colonists went about their daily lives. And with most of the hostiles in the outpost chasing after the Master Chief's team instead, they had a limited window of opportunity to check it out.

Ashley Williams took point, her eyes darting to her left flank for a second, then back to the door she was slowly approaching. She walked forward, slow and deliberate. Jenkins had her left flank, Wrex her right. The Marine took the lead, breaching the door and immediately moving forwards to allow her teammates to enter after her.

"Something's snooping around in here," said Wrex.

"You hear the Urdnot. Eyes open!"

They moved deeper into the complex, moving through the dark hallways. They could still gear the occasional rattling of an assault weapon, or the solid booming of a shotgun. At one point, just as Ashley was making a comment about feeling like something was watching them, something darted across the corridor.

Williams, tensed up and itching to shoot something, squeezed the trigger of her Lancer Mk IV. A salvo of hyper-accelerated metal fragments sped forth into the corridor. Then, the gun fired into the ceiling, shredding the metal plates, Lillim having jerked the gun upwards at the last moment.

"What the hell!" Ashley snapped, looking at the Commander with anger and confusion.

"Check your targets," she hissed, staring down the Gunnery Chief. "We are looking for a civilian!"

The Marine huffed, but Lillim's eyes were sharper than the human's. She did not think they were being hunted like before.

"Tali?" Said the Commnader. She gestured at the direction where the shaped had darted off to, giving the quarian a reassuring smile. "Move up."

The quarian nodded, increasing her grip on her shotgun as she moved past Kaidan and Garrus. She didn't lack courage; she had held her own pretty well during the tense close quarters ambush.

Tali move towards the spot, where a pair of steel cabinets stood next to each, one slightly ajar. The opening of an airduct was clearly visible behind them.

"There you are…" whispered Shepard. Tali knelt down for a better look, closely watched by a tense Garrus and a nervou Jenkins. She activated her omni-tool and shone a light into the opening.

A pair of terrified eyes stared back at her.

"Keelah!" Cried Tali. The tension and fear left her completely as she looked over her shoulder at the Elder Devil. "It is her!"

"You found her?" Said Garrus. "The asari?"

"Yes! It is safe, miss. The monsters are gone. We chased them off."

Lillim saw the girl's eyes, as wide as dinner plates. The only part of her not covered in dirt and grime. She prodded Tali, urging her on.

"We -we're here to help," continued the quarian. "I'm Tali'Zorah, and these are my comrades. Can you come out?"

"Let's back up a bit," said Lillim. "Wrex? Garrus? Give her some distance. The only aliens she saw weren't nice to look at."

"She means you," Wrex muttered to Garrus, who rolled with his eyes.

Tali went closer to the airduct, holding out a gloved hand. Sure enough, a few moments later, the asari's hand came out.

Lillim stood back, watching it happen. Liara T'Soni took Tali's hand, slowly crawling out of the duct. Her blue eyes darted around for any signs of danger, then widened when she saw Garrus and Wrex. She gave a cry of fear, but Lillim quickly stepped in front of the two aliens.

"They're friends," She hurried to say. "They helped us fight the monsters. See? They have guns. Nothing is going to hurt you."

Lillim glanced at Kaidan, who looked more concerned than relieved. His thoughts probably echoed her own; how long had the girl been here, and was she in need of medical support? "Let's radio in to the _Normandy_ ," he said. "I bet Joker is dying to know if we are alright."

"So this is it, right?" Said Garrus. "We went through three hells to find her, but we got her!"

"Garrus," replied Kaidan, "It's not that easy. You didn't see this place break down, but she did. She may need a full psychiatric workout."

Lillim couldn't agree more. From what she understood, Liara was no more than a child in the asari culture. What happened on Therum was something no person ever had to see. Heavens, she had seen much worse and this still shook her to her core. More evidence that the endless potential of Liminals that people spoke of so often, could just as easily destroy things as it created them.

Still, now that they had Liara T'Soni with them, there was no reason to hang around much longer. Lillim took her team straight back towards the Mako APC, from where Joker could pick them up. However, things didn't work out the way she had planned them to.

How he found her, she didn't know, but he was here now. The Master Chief and his own team stood in front of the Mako, weapons drawn.

Shepard silently shook her head when she saw that. Her own team saw the hostile sight and half of it acted accordingly. Wrex unslung his shotgun, Tali maneuvered herself in front of Liara and drew her pistol. The other half of her squad -the half that knew and loved the legend- merely gazed at the sight of a living, breathing, gore-covered Spartan.

"Shit…" mumbled Jenkins.

"Wow…" whispered Kaidan.

"God…" muttered Ashley.

"Nope!" Yelled Garrus. His eyes went from the angry Dragon to the armed Lamia to the Master Chief himself and he deliberately put his gun away. "Nope!"

"Chief," Lillim said, feeling a kick of annoyance. "How pleasant to see you."

"Don't "Chief" that thing," Said Wrex. "Chief means business."

The dragon growled at him, and the old krogan growled back.

"Thing?" Called the Lamia. "How about I mount your head on my wall, call you a thing!"

"I'd like to see you try, monster!" Shouted Ashley.

"Stay out of the conversation, woman," huffed Saren. "The adults are speaking. "

Lillim could literally feel the tension in the air double. As much as she would like to see a fight between a skilled Dragon and an ancient krogan, she was not going to have any violence here. Not when Liara so desperately needed safety and comfort.

Kaidan, ever the voice of reason, seemed to share her thoughts. "Let's not do anything rash here," he said. "Look, I'm putting my gun away. No need for violence."

It was silent for a few seconds, before…

"Yeah, no."

"Hells no."

"Not following."

"Moron."

Kaidan threw his hands up in the air and sighed explosively. "Fine, then I'm pulling it out again…"

"I…I don't understand…" muttered Liara.

"Neither do I," replied Tali. "I think it's the magic."

"Magic?"

"Apparently, monsters can use magic."

"Liminals, Tali," Lillim quietly corrected her. "Monsters is impolite. Master Chief, do you mind telling me why you are standing near our vehicle?"

"We determined the source of the outpost's outbreak," said the Spartan.

The Commander decided to humor him. "Oh, splendid. And?"

"We are going to take her with us," said the Lamia

Shepard sighed. _No surprise there…_ " Channeling your inner ONI, I see…"

The Lamia glanced at the Spartan as if for verification, somehow managed to get said verification and continued. "We would just like to verify that there will be no filed objections against our decision."

"Verbal agreements aren't binding," Garrus reminded her.

"But it might put a sour note on our working relationship if you were to break it," warned the Lamia.

"Believe it or not, but I have no intention of getting in your way," said Shepard. "We found the VIP, you secured a threat, everybody wins, no?"

"Agreed," said the Spartan. "We had to verify your mission success. Both the geth as the Covenant were here for a reason."

"And that reason being?"

"The viral threat, we assume," said the Lamia.

Lillim wanted to reply to that, but a Pelican dropship swooped into the LZ area, almost right on top of the Mako. For a brief, incredulous moment she thought that the Master Chief was about to steal her ride, but he merely directed his team towards the dropship for their own exfil.

Someone had been propped up against one of the seats, but the Elder Devil couldn't see who, or what it was.

Though something told her it was the "viral threat", the Lamia had talked about.

Perhaps it was for the better that the Spartan's dropship vacated the area before any more "conversations" could be had. Wrex watched it go, obviously not impressed with the competing Spectre team.

"Almost thought he would try to steal our ride," he said.

"I'm disappointed he didn't," replied Lillim.

"Huh?"

"That would show he took the competition seriously. I do not believe he understands how this works yet."

The krogan shrugged. "Suits me fine."

Before long, the _Normandy_ swept down as well, hovering precariously close to the ground. The cargo bay doors, which lead to the garage, opened up. A small handful of servicemen rushed down the ramp, carrying medical supplies and firearms to help them secure the area. Shouts and cries for and from medics soon rang out, and Liara finally got the medical attention she needed.

It had been a long day, but they made it.

~0~

* * *

 **Aboard UNSC** _ **Reach**_

" **Spectre's Bar"**

Lacking a conference room like the _Normandy_ did, the Master Chief was forced to debrief his team in an impromptu location. At Cortana's suggestion, he had taken his team to the Officer's Club for both the debriefing as the interrogation.

Just like the O-Club on the _Gettysburg,_ the _Reach's_ Club had a massive oak table, all new and shiny, which could easily seat twenty individuals. There was a bar, complete with counter and fridge, stocked with bottles containing a rainbow collection of beverages, mostly alcoholic in nature. The brown-paneled walls were adorned with a large collection of paintings and photos of Reach, as well as the UNSC's flag and the Spartans' logo. A large, elaborate daguerreotype hung on the far wall,picturing the Battle of Reach,

The Chief wasn't sure how to feel about that one.

With the asari VIP safe and secure and the viral threat taken care of, the mission could officially be declared successful.

Despite what Cortana kept saying.

" _I am telling you, you shouldn't have let her go with the asari! Your team could have totally handled hers!"_

"They outnumbered us two to one."

" _Three of them would have thrown their weapons to the ground at your command, one of them would have crapped himself and the last was a noncombatant! You could simply feed Wrex to Draco."_

"You're getting too excited, Cortana. They were our allies."

" _So? You are the Master freaking Chief himself. If you want a VIP, you can get a VIP!"_

"Feeding krogan to Draco? You're getting too excited about this competition."

"Ehm…sir?" Went Miia's voice.

The Spartan turned back to the Officer's Club and realized he had forgotten to mute his external speakers. As a result, Saren had lowered his head to the table, Miia was trying to control her giggling and Draco was staring at him with an expression that just screamed "are you kidding me?". Worse; Captain Keyes, whom the Chief had invited, stood in the opening of the door, his gaze at the floor, sotly shaking his head, while their Vampire guest was looking increasingly uncomfortable.

The Chief merely sighed and sat down. He had just cleared a Vampire infestation, he was allowed to argue in public. "Take a seat," he told the assorted crewmembers of the _Reach._ The mission hadn't exactly gone like a Blue Team mission should have, but perhaps the debriefing but feel more like home.

Keyes sat down next to Saren, while Draco took a seat at the far end of the heavy oak table. Miia, being his XO, sat closest to him. The Vampire sat alone, unrestrained as the Chief was certain she meant them no harm.

"The asari VIP went with the _Normandy_ , as they lack a shipboard AI and sorely miss technical expertise. The UNSC will send a ship to Therum to clean up the mess down there. Speaking of which…" He glanced at the Vampire, who fidgeted in her seat.

" _Why don't you ask her name?"_ Said Cortana.

"What do we call you?"

" _Good enough, I suppose…"_

The Vampire focused her gaze intently on the table. "K-Kyuri…" she quietly said.

"Why don't you tell us what happened down there, Kyuri?" Said Miia. She sounded friendly, almost like she was trying to light the mood.

"I…I can't…"

"You were stuck in a cryotube, UNSC military equipment," said the Chief. "Any idea how you got in there?"

The girl shook her head. "I don't…I don't know."

"Don't know?"

"I…I can't remember."

Saren crossed his arms. "You can't remember? How _convenient_. "

"You don't remember what happened?" The disappointment was clear in Miia's voice. Her pointy ears seemed to drop somewhat. "Nothing about the bitey-bitey death and carnage?"

"Lieutenant…" warned the Chief. To Kyuri, he said, "What _do_ you remember?"

A pained look crossed the Vampire's face. "We were evacuating Arcadia…but something went wrong. I…"

"What went wrong? What is the last thing you remember?"

"A girl…a girl in a dress, with blond hair."

The Chief cocked an eyebrow. Specific as it was, that was not the sort of information he had been hoping for. "Anything else?"

"Hunger. Terrible hunger."

"And the rest is history," said Saren. "They woke you up on Therum and you went crazy. You attacked in infected the civilian population, most of them aliens, who can't handle your… _virus_ …the way humans can. They went insane. Do you remember _that_?"

The Chief glared at Saren. Despite his own suspicions, he wasn't going to sit by and watch an alien criticize a UNSC civilian. Even if that alien was his teammate raising a sharp point. "The cryotube malfunctioned. Anyone would have been unstable."

"Master Chief, if I might ask?" Said Keyes.

"Of course, Captain," replied the Chief.

The Captain glanced at Kyuri, as if appraising her. "I'm sorry to say this, Miss, but Arcadia was glassed three years ago."

Just like that, the Captain had everyone's attention, effective immediately.

"No…no, that can't be true!" Said Kyuri. "Three years-"

"Explain?" Asked the Chief, trying not to make it sound like he was demanding an answer.

"It is just as it sounds. Three years ago, the Covenant rolled in and burned Arcadia. They glassed the whole world, but we managed to evacuate quite a number of civilians."

The Chief looked at the Captain, one of the few persons in the galaxy he trusted without hesitation, then back to the girl, who looked like she had just been slapped in the face. "Three years?"

Cortana spoke up, using the table's holographic display to project her digital avatar. "Arcadia lay in the Covenant Theatre. Kyuri, what year do you think it is?"

Looking greatly disturbed now, the Vampire looked at Cortana. Shakily, she said, "I thought it was 2546."

Not quite. "In a few hours, it will be 26th January, 2549."

"Which raises the question," said the Chief. "If you were ejected from a civilian transport…"

Keyes finished his sentence. "Then how did you end up on Therum?"

~0~

* * *

 **USERNAME: SIERRA 117**

 **PASSWORD: *********

 **[VERIFYING]**

 **WELCOME BACK, SIERRA-117**

 **CODEX ENTRY UNLOCKED: UNSC: SPECIES: VAMPIRES**

 _The Vampire is a humanoid species that is famed in mythology for their aversion to sunlight and their possession of fangs for sucking the blood of other beings. Due to their natural diet of blood, Vampires were considered predatory and associated as Devils until around the early 18th-century._

 _Vampires are among the most dangerous Liminal species due to their near-perfect hypnotic gaze; a Vampire can turn any sentient being into a willing victim by means of eye-contact. Because of their weakness to sunlight, they thrive during the night, where their powers at their greatest. In addition to their hypnotic gaze, Vampires can shroud themselves in darkness and shadows and. This grants them increased movement speed as well, which led to creation of the "swarm of bats" myth._

 _Actively hunted because of the threat they pose, Vampires are now considered endangered species. Their involvement with the Human-Covenant war is kept classified by the Office of Naval Intelligence._

 _~0~_

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _dun dun dun! Cliffhanger!_

 _In all seriousness, I wanted to add in another scene, from Liara's POV, detailing how the Normandy went about debriefing their crew after Therum. However, the chapter would get a bit too bloated if I did that, as well as costing me even more time to get this chapter out. So. we'll have to safe that for later._

 _Anyway, haven't updated in quite a while, for multiple reasons. Check out the Author's Note at the end of chapter 18 of my other mass effect crossover if you want to know the details. Let's just say things were looking quite ugly for a while._

 _If there's something you want to see, or potential things you think I need to improve on, leave a review and let me know. If not, you can leave a review nonetheless, because they are the reason I get up in the morning. Literally, as I'm posting this at twelve o'clock in the evening._


	16. 2,5: Daily life with post-action reports

**AN:** _So almost six months passed since my last update. I certainly didn't plan that. If everything works out though, I'll be updating more frequently from here on._

 _Anyway, I've sorted out my troubles -most of them- so don't worry, I haven't given up on any of my crossovers. You can follow the progress of the other stories via my profile page._

 **~0~**

* * *

 **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: WARFARE: ARMOURED WARFARE: A NEW TANK DOCTRINE**

" _Make no mistake; victory does lie in strength. The art of concentrating your forces at one point, forcing a breakthrough, rolling up and securing the flanks on either side, and then piercing through like lightning, before the enemy has time to react, deep into his rear. That, I believe, is strength."_

General E. Rommel, on the Human-Batarian war, 2548

" _If you shoot, you hit, if you defend, you defend strong, if you advance, you advance without falter. Iron rules and a heart of steel. That is what defines the true UNSC Tank Doctrine!"_

 _S. Nishizumi, Director-General of defense contractor" Kuromorimine Tankery School Foundation", 2549_

 _Devastated by the destruction of most of their industry during the Human-Covenant war, the United Nations Space Command took to civilian contractors and industries to replace the bulk of their losses. One of these contractors is known as the Kuromorimine Tankery School; a massive, NGO organization responsible for developing, upkeeping and employing the UNSCs armoured vehicles._

 _Faced with the prospect of fighting a modern war against the Hegemony of the Batarian Theocracies, several members of the UNSC High Command proposed a drastic shift in doctrine to counter this new threat. The Kuromorimine Tankery School was granted a dramatically increased budget to field new and specialized armoured vehicles._

 _~0~_

* * *

 **Attican Traverse**

Nobody would forget the humiliation that the humans had brought upon them. The Sacking of Erszbat, the Disgrace of Elysium, the Butchery of Torfan; humanity had mocked the great Batarian Theocracies, slaughtered their people and stolen their worlds!

But the time for vengeance was at hand. One individual had been chosen by the Grand Chancellors to turn the Batarian-Human war around, to make those pathetic humans pay for the batarian blood they had shed with their own! A thousand humans would burn for every batarian victim, and one person had been chosen to guide the nation through this war.

Karn Rag'conak, High Admiral of the Illuminated Fleet, stood on the bridge of the Dreadnaught _Gitanikas,_ smiling. With hundreds of warships under his command, the Illuminated Fleet alone could scorch any planet, no matter how well defended, no matter how many locals defended it. Even though the Hegemony was seen as a downtrodden nation, they were masters at war. Their troops alone rivalled the asari, but with the legions of mercenaries at their fingertips, and the many, _many_ armies of slave-troops, they might very well rival the Turian Hierarchy in a ground war.

The humans were left gravely wounded by their war with the Covenant. Licking their wounds, hiding in their dens like the primitive animals they were.

Even better; while the enemy lay on the ground, bleeding, the Batarian Theocracies had _mobilized_. The humans had given them an excuse to commit themselves to total mobilization, to weaponize and militarize. Men jumped at the opportunity to join the war-effort and fight for Khar'Shan. Every able body capable of holding a gun, could be thrown against the enemy. Unemployment had plummeted, their economy had leapt to the stars.

Soon, the Grand Chancellors had reasoned. Soon, the humans and their warbeasts would pay for what they had done. The great batarian people would break them, break them and their warbeasts. If they ever were to overthrow the Citadel Council and take what was theirs, those monstrous subspecies would be vital.

Knowing what failure to break the UNSC's collective spine would mean for him, the High Admiral started at the very beginning.

Studying his foe's history.

~0~

* * *

 **23:30 Hours, January 22th, (Military Calendar) / Omega Nebula, Sahrabarik, Omega Station**

Venom pushed deeper into the slums, sweeping his MA5K carbine from left to right as he passed by yet another structure. Aliens glared at him as he passed by. Batarians, krogan, every species on the Citadel spectrum. This was their territory, their turf. The land of the outcasts, the lawless, the scum of the galaxy. Omega was a battlefield of a different sort, one that demanded either immediate adaptation or death.

But ever since Jericho VII, Venom had been a master of adaptation. The battlefield was his home. He paid the aliens who could not harm him no mind, while keeping an eye on those who could. Aria T'Loak had given them one day to find their target, but the word of a woman like her meant nothing.

Up ahead, a pair of turians decked out in blue-white armour were standing in front of a hallway, carrying mass accelerator rifles in their arms. Both of them had the sheath of a knife attached their right shoulder. As it was, they were talking together, having yet to spot the armed human walking their way. The problem was that they were standing in his way, as they blocked off the path he was meant to take.

Unflinchingly, he walked up towards the two turians, whom he identified as members of the Blue Suns mercenary organization. They had a reputation of brutality, ruthlessness and discretion. In that regard, they were like ONI.

One of them spotted him. "Halt! This area is off-limits!"

"If you know what's good for you, you'll turn around and walk away," said the other.

Venom stopped. He didn't like diplomacy, but he would not break the cease-fire that the General had brokered for them. Disappointing their Boss was the last thing any member of the Vulpes Special Forces team wanted to do. In a sign of good will, he hung his rifle on its magnetic strip on his hip. "Aria T'Loak said we could pass. We're with the UNSC, looking for a fugitive."

"Piss off," said the turian on the left. "Human approaching us with his gun out? You're lucky we didn't already shoot you!"

"You said Aria let you through? I call bullshit. She hates your kind!"

Venom frowned. He formulated a plan of attack and subtly changed his stance, getting ready to execute it. "Are you willing to risk that? Call her up."

In response to that, one of the turians reached out and shoved him. Venom sidestepped, pinned the limb to his chest and threw the alien over his hip, slamming him into the ground with enough force to knock him out.

The second turian raised his rifle, but was unable to bring it to bear fast enough. Venom struck him twice in rapid succession with his open palm, followed up with a low kick to his left leg and ripped the weapon from his hands.

The mercenary recovered from his daze, saw that the roles had been reversed and promptly raised his hands. His helmet concealed his face, which made it difficult to read his expressions. Hopefully, he wouldn't go for his knife. "Wow, hey! Don't shoot!"

"I'm looking for a turian general,' said Venom. "His name is Levitcus."

"I've got no idea. We were just told to guard this hallway."

"And?"

"A-and our Commander might know more!"

Venom lowered the alien rifle, broke its cooldown mechanism and bent the barrel. In a flash, the turian drew his knife and lashed out, forcing Venom to divert his arm, whirl it around to deprive him of the knife and punch him in the throat. He then grabbed the alien by the fringe and slammed him face-first against the wall, knocking him out as well.

He looked down on the two guards. They were sloppy; even without the Vulpes set of augmentations, he could have easily taken them down.

Proceeding deeper into the hallway, Venom was not at all surprised to find that it just led to another part of Omega's residential area. More slums, more aliens, more thugs. There were different elevation levels, at least three tiers of them, as well as a handful of large, rock protrusions.

He knew that Hunter would be traveling across those, somewhere out there.

And speak of the devil, the moment Venom stepped into view, his comrade in arms contacted him. " _I see you found your way in."_

"Yeah. Either Aria double-crossed the General, or she didn't bother to tell the troops."

Hunter chucked. To him, the fight meant more than the objective. " _It won't matter. I interrogated some of these aliens. It seems that Levitcus is here."_

"One of the Blue Suns told me that only their Commander knows where he is. Any idea where I can find him?"

" _You will have to look around. Blue Sun Commanders are equipped with heavy armor and superior weapons. Remember; finding the target is your task."_

"I'll look for their profile. Venom out."

With a large, potentially-hostile area to search, the Vulpes Agents had their work cut out for them. They were a part of ONI's Section Three, Special Forces akin to the SPARTAN projects, but without the advanced armor and propaganda. They were a covert operations group, made up of people gifted in combat and combat alone. Most members would be lost in a civilian life.

But their forte lay in stealth, which was exactly what Venom planned on utilizing to find that Blue Suns Commander. He pushed deeper into the district, taking to the higher ground for observation. He soon spotted a handful of mercs patrolling around a large building. It was about three stories high, with a flat roof and no windows.

Closer observation revealed another group, patrolling a wider perimeter, counter-clockwise.

"Hunter, target building in sight. Spotting fifteen hostiles on the outside, several inside."

" _On my way. The people here are getting antsy; I had to kill a couple of vorcha who were going crazy."_

Venom paused, then listened. At first, he didn't feel like anything was off. The air was buzzing with voices still, screams and shouts, mechanical noises. Nothing was amiss. "Don't see anything unusual."

" _Then catch you on the flipside. I'll keep you covered."_

With that, Venom went to work. He started on the outskirts of the perimeter, where he snuck up on one of the Blue Suns and quickly choked him into unconsciousness. He dumped the body in one of the nearby houses, then moved on to his next target. With a combination of stealth and CQC, he managed to dispatch of a sizeable amount of them before he ran into a complication.

When interrogating his latest victim, he learnt that the CO was inside of the complex. He also learnt that General Levitcus had been seen in the company of a strange-looking Liminal soldier in what had looked like power armor.

That a member of the Aestus Initiative was here, was strange enough. ONI had cut a bloody swath through Terminus space to find that Intel. But that a Liminal soldier would betray humanity to work with them was unprecedented.

Though the revelation confused him, Venom knew that this was only supposed to change his combat tactics. He pushed on to the structure itself, ducking low when another mercenary wandered too close He pocketed a piece of metal and flung it the opposite direction.

"What was that?" Snapped the mercenary. He brought a shotgun to bear and slowly marched away, leaving the door unguarded.

The Vulpes agent moved quickly, using his TACPAD to overload the locking mechanism. As soon as he gained entrance, he ducked inside the building and locked the door behind him.

From what he could see, the building wasn't much different from most of Omega's structures. A shoddy, hastily erected mess, filed with scrap and junk. There was a staircase just ahead, though it was difficult to see what sort of security mechanisms were in place.

Again, Venom stopped to listen for any sign of trouble. There as something about this place, this peculiar choice of a location for a meeting…why would a high-ranking member of such a powerful and secret organization meet here?

The answer hit him a split-second before the ceiling directly above him exploded in a shower of metal shards and fragments. His instincts kicked in and the agent rolled to the side, dodging the massive form that leapt down below. He was pelted by shrapnel, most of which bounced off his hardsuit as his kinetic barriers activated.

"I thought I sensed someone snooping around," said the creature.

Venom leapt to his feet and drew his gun. What stood before him wasn't human, but neither was it any Liminal he knew. At first thought it looked like a geth soldier, except that it had distinct organic features.

Its head could have passed for human female, even an attractive one, had it not been for her blue skin and blood-red eyes. Her ears were long and jagged, the right one nearly twice as long as the left. Several thin scars ran across her cheek, forming half a Glasgow grin.

The human similarities ended there. She looked like someone had taken the broad picture of a knight and in plate armor, only to turn it into a complete caricature. Her limbs were grotesque; bulbous, made from a grey, chitinous material clad in jagged edges of metal armor. Her arms were twice as long as her torso and asymmetrical to boot. The shoulder pad on her left arm alone was larger than an assault rifle and the arm itself ended in what had to be a whip of some sorts.

Her right arm clutched a massive, star-shaped spear. The weapon seemed to be made from the same material as her two segmented legs, which looked completely artificial. Her feet alone were half Venom's size, ending in two wicked talons.

The Vulpes agent opened fire, but the bullets harmlessly bounced off her chestplate.

"A little human soldier," she spoke, a nasty grin playing over her features. "It has been such a long time since I had a decent challenge. You better not disappoint me!"

A half monster, half machine hostile. Despite her heavy-looking body, she seemed light on her feet. Her close quarters capabilities seemed extreme, but she seemed to lack ranged abilities. He had to use that to his advantage.

She struck as well, lashing out with that whiplike appendage on her left arm. Venom rolled to the side, barely managing to duck low enough to avoid the strike. It ripped through the thick wall behind him like it wasn't even there, shearing through wood and metal alike without slowing down.

The Vulpes agent returned fire, directing bursts of 7,62mm rounds to the monster's arms, legs and chest, to no avail. When he forewent trying to take her alive and fired directly at her head, a shimmering barrier sprang to live and absorbed his fire.

In return, the creature strung together a quick series of slashes with her whip, forcing Venom to duck, roll and weave past her attacks, to the point where he was unable to react fast enough and took a direct hit to his stomach.

The blow sent him sprawling to the floor, knocking the air from his lungs. Driven by reflexes and conditioning alone, he rolled away when the monster lashed out with her spear, narrowly missing his left calf in the process.

Venom drew his sidearm and, lacking a proper target, instead shot the whip as it passed by his head again. He expected the monster to scream, or curse, but instead it just laughed.

"That's the spirit!" Cried the monster. She then lashed out with that giant lance, again narrowly missing his head.

Then, a figure leapt after the monster from the hole in the ceiling. Humanoid, clad in an armored suit with red shoulder pads, gauntlets, elbows, knees and ankles with a white head. There was a red lamp in the central portion of the figure's facemask.

Hunter.

He made no sound, no noise, nothing to betray the fact that he was even there, yet the monster still spun around and thrust her lance at him, forcing him to spin around midair to avoid the strike.

Hunter landed on all fours, his sword held behind him. "Venom. Levitcus, top of the building. I'll take this one."

The monster laughed. "It matters not who I fight. Come at me!"

Hunter shifted positions, getting on his feet and whipping his sword around. "Then let us fight like warriors, blade to blade."

Venom did not stick around to watch. With his rifle in his hands, he darted towards the stairs. He trusted his comrade to hold off the strange monster on his own. Once ONI got their hands on the turian, he'd find out just what the hell she had been.

The Vulpes agent rushed to the top of the building, half expecting to be jumped by hostiles as he passed by the half a dozen rooms that made up the structure. That didn't happen, however, and he safely reached the top of the building, where a lone figure was waiting for him. A turian, clad in red and black armor, standing at the far edge of the structure.

It was Levitcus.

Would it be this easy?

It was soon proven to the agent that no, this wouldn't be easy at all. "Stop," commanded the General.

Venom, who had intended to sneak up on the turian, paused. Levitcus held a Carnifex in his right hand, and a strange metal device in his left. Spherical, made from dark-blue metal. No larger than a grenade.

"I knew this day would come," continued Levitcus. "I knew that the humans would find me."

"Why did you do it?" Said Venom, slowly inching towards the General. "Why did you attack Shanxi?"

A sad expression on his face, the turian shook his head. "I didn't have a choice. They want her back. They obey her."

"Her? Who?"

"Stay back!" The General suddenly shouted. "She's listening to every word we say. The UNSC _needed_ to be brought into the galactic vault, she was counting on it. An attack was the only way we could think of. And it _worked_!"

"You're coming with us," said Venom. "If you help us, we can promise you safety. We can promise you a new life."

"No." Even as the turian spoke, a ring of pink light erupted behind him. Reality itself seemed to shift and warp as the ring grew large and wide enough to consume an Orc. "Nobody can protect me anymore. Take what you need from my body -it will show you the way."

Venom darted forwards, knowing what the turian was about to do, but he was too late. As the shimmering ring behind him grew to a fever pitch, the turian pointed the gun to the side of his head and pulled the trigger.

The next second, Venom slammed into his body, grabbing it by the wrists and pulling it away from the mass of energy.

Seconds later, the swirling circle of light erupted in a flash of pink. For a second, the Vulpes agent thought he saw a pair of red eyes staring at him from beyond the light, but then the circle collapsed in on itself and faded away.

Beneath him, the battle between Hunter and the monster audibly raged on. Cradling the corpse of the quarry they were meant to capture alive, Venom was about to fall back when his radio crackled to life.

It was Eventide.

" _Venom, the energy readings are off the scale. What happened?"_

"Levitcus is dead, sir. Shot himself as a portal of some sorts appeared behind him."

" _Retrieve the body and get to the Black Cat exfiltration craft. Even dead men tell their tales."_

"Copy-"

Gunfire impacted a few inches away from his feet and Venom backed away, rapidly scanning his surroundings for shooters.

There, in the opposite building, third floor to the left, he saw a pair of vorcha take aim. Behind them, a turian was setting something up.

And it wasn't just them. It looked like Aria's promise had just been rescinded, as more and more of Omega's inhabitants suddenly emerged with firearms at the ready, taking potshots at their building.

"The population is getting rowdy, sir. We might need a distraction."

" _You'll get your distraction,"_ replied Eventide. " _Just get Levitcus' body here in one piece."_

Venom shifted the dead turian to his shoulders, pulled out his sidearm and backpedaled away from the enemy combatants. With some luck, he might be able to link up with Hunter and leave unseen.

That was when the first missile impacted on the building.

~0~

* * *

 **07:30 Hours (Military Calendar) / UNSC Stealth Destroyer** _ **Reach**_

 **Artemis Tau Cluster, in orbit around Therum**

One of the crewmembers on the bridge turned to face the Spartan the moment he stepped out of the elevator. "Master Chief, the Council would like to speak to you."

The Chief frowned. He had expected at least a few more hours before Cortana's written report would stir up a response from the big brass. "Already?"

"We were about to fill you in, but seeing as you're here now…"

"Patch them through. I'll be there momentarily."

And so, he stepped back in the elevator to go right down again, to the comm room. It had been installed with his Spectrehood in mind, with extensive holographic and quantum entanglement systems that allowed for real-time conversations with individuals on the other side of the galaxy.

A bit too real-time for the Master Chief, who stepped into the room and waited patiently for the three members of the Citadel Council to materialize. Because, half a minute later, he found himself facing the uncannily-realistic images of Valern, Sparatus and Tevos.

"Councilors," the Chief respectfully began. He noted that, while the asari and salarian Councilor appeared just like they always appeared, the turian was wearing some sort of visor, concealing his eyes. He wondered why.

" _We have received your report, Master Chief,"_ said Tevos. " _I understand the Vampire is on the_ Reach _as we speak?"_

"Yes ma'am," replied the Chief, clasping his hands on his back. "After we secured the VIP, the Vampire was deemed too important an asset to ignore."

" _A creature who can dominate one's mind using only her gaze sounds like a dangerous asset to me,"_ said Valern.

" _I assume you are taking the necessary security precautions?"_ Said Sparatus.

The Chief took another look at the turian's facial protection and guessed the rest. "Cortana ran her files. She's a UNSC civilian without a criminal record, let alone connections to the Black Fang."

" _Not entirely what I meant."_

The Chief continued nonetheless. "On Therum, they tried to thaw her from cryosleep, but they messed it up. She woke up, not just starving, but also delirious and confused."

" _As long as she won't compromise your missions, this won't be an issue,"_ said Tevos. " _I am glad you were able to find Liara; Benezia was fearing the worst."_

" _We are_ still _fearing the worst; the Covenant vessel described by your reports could be filled with those things. They need to be quarantined,"_ said Sparatus.

"The _Reach_ is armed with enough weaponry to destroy both it as the geth ship,' replied the Chief.

" _Though it is a shame you were unable to locate any connections to Desolas,"_ said Valern, soundly ignoring his turian colleague. " _We hope you will continue to focus on the immediate threat."_

The Chief hesitated. "There is something else. The Vampire was evacuated from a world in the Covenant Theatre, three years ago. She has been in Cryo all this time."

The Councilors fell silent. No doubt they recognized the issue of such a cryotube miraculously ending up on Therum, hundreds of lightyears away. Unsurprisingly, it was Valern who spoke up first. " _That might be problematic."_

" _I don't see how?"_ Said Tevos. " _Her escape pod might have been found by scavengers, or other survivors who took her with them."_

" _Hardly,"_ replied Sparatus. " _The Covenant routinely targets and destroys escape pods when they find them. If they leave a system, they make sure to do so as the last, living creatures. Taking that cryotube mid-battle should have been impossible."_

The Chief cocked an eyebrow at that display of knowledge, but kept his remarks to himself. "We don't know how it might be related…"

" _Then you should stay with the mission at hand,"_ said Tevos. " _I trust you are able to keep this…individual under control, but remember. Desolas must be stopped."_

Oh, the Master Chief remembered alright. The entire Initiative would answer for its crimes. "Have you found any leads?"

" _Our finest intel agents are working on this,"_ said Valern, apparently still musing on what he had been told. " _We will alert you of further developments."_

" _Good luck, Spartan,"_ Sparatus then said. With that, the Councilors terminated the link on their end, leaving the Spartan to ponder his next move. This entire operation had only just begun, but already he was out of clues.

" _That was every enlightening, wasn't it?"_ Cortana eventually said. " _I think I like Valern now, too. He knew something was up."_

"But Tevos is right. We need to focus on the mission."

" _That is correct. However, I am still curious as to how a civilian in a cryotube ended up so far away from her home. Why now? How long has the pod been there, and why was the Covenant and the geth interested in it?"_

"It? You think they weren't after the civilians?"

" _Maybe, maybe. Can't do anything about it now. You should check out our own IFV! Shepard's feeble Mako is no match for us once we get our own ride in the field!"_

The Chief sighed. "Why is this competition so important to you? The ODST's have been competing with Spartans for years, you never cared."

Cortana replied as if she were talking to a one-year old. " _Back then, our entire species was at risk. Now, we have the backing of a civilization powerful enough to match the Covenant. There is less urgency. Additionally, remember Ackerson?"_

"Point taken."

" _Exactly. You might not see it as a competition, Chief, but the UNSC sure does. The UEG, the UNSC and ONI – especially ONI- all have different wishes. A Spectre represents the wishes of their nation. Whoever gets the first Spectre, gets the biggest say."_

When she put it like that, the Chief could understand. That didn't mean he had to like it, though. "I don't even know who will benefit if I become a Spectre."

" _Don't worry about that. I do. Now, on to the hangar bay."_

Normal Destroyers, being made up entirely out of guns and thick armor-plating, didn't have much room for a hangar bay. Usually, those bays would be small and cramped, but filled with bleeding-edge technology. The _Reach_ , however, seemed to have a much more spacious hangar bay, with room for multiple vehicles.

As Captain Keyes had explained to him, the _Reach_ alsofeatured a specialized set of gravity generators that could decelerate incoming vessels while also being reconfigurable to have an electromagnetic catapult launch assist, which could quickly deploy shuttlecraft.

The vehicle that Cortana wanted him to take a look at, stood way in the back, to the far right.

The Пума Infantry Fighting Vehicle, the UNSC's answer to the Council Races' Mako Infantry Fighting Vehicle, had been co-developed by Kuromorimine and a Russian developer. Supposedly, the weapon had come as a real shock to the militaristic Turian Hierarchy, as well as the Batarian Theocracies, who hadn't put much thought into the idea of a heavily armed, speedy IFV that could go toe-to-toe with tanks.

The Master Chief, who was eyeing the armored vehicle while Cortana started talking about its history, had to admit that the design had surprised him as well. Bristling with missiles, armored machine gun ports and a gun with enough power to rip through a Wraith, the image of the Пума racing through Covenant lines appealed to him.

Even better, thanks to mass effect technology, the vehicle was light enough to be amphibious, yet sturdy enough to be airdropped. According to Cortana, "sturdy" didn't do the Пума justice.

" _Its modular armor allows our technicians to outfit it for various levels of protection for every operational need. An Пума with maximum level of protection is even tougher than a Main Battle Tank. While it won't be able to drive through a solid Wraith mortar blast, it will be able to shrug off the main cannon of either a Mako or a Scorpion. That's not even taking the kinetic barriers into account."_

"What about the Geth?" Said the Chief.

Cortana snorted. " _Humanoid robots and four-legged walkers versus a seventy-millimeter autocannon firing depleted uranium and an ATGM launcher? You'll run out of ammo before they even deplete your shields."_

That 70mm autocannon with depleted Uranium slugs had a certain charm to it, yes. It alone could make short work of even the heaviest geth unit. "What about heavy armor?"

" _Only a specific Hierarchy Branch utilizes heavily armored vehicles, as well as the geth. I've run twelve-hundred and nineteen simulations facing geth heavy armor."_

"And?"

She chuckled. " _The ATGM launcher can fire up to twenty missiles before it needs to be rearmed on the_ Reach _. The Heorot missiles are loaded with an anti-jam package, multiple types of backup target acquisition sensors and a self-sharpening kinetic penetrator."_

The Spartan whistled. "How much do these missiles cost?"

" _You don't want to know."_

The Chief decided to let the issue of their finances rest and glanced around the hangar bay. He saw Lieutenant Lucifinae, of all people, standing near one of the boxes, sorting through equipment. She was clad in a specialized hardsuit, mass-produced for Lamia soldiers.

Guessing that he might as well get to know his second-in-command, he joined her. "Lieutenant? A word?"

The girl turned around upon hearing his voice. A small cry of surprise escaped past her lips, before she quickly snapped off a salute. "Master Chief, sir!"

"At ease."

She lowered her arm, then smiled. A single canine protruded from underneath her upper lip, another remember that the majority of his team now existed out of non-humans. "What can I help you with, sir?"

"Just checking up on the crew. How are you acclimatizing?"

"Well enough. I'm supposed to take care of the Marine roster, but we still need to pick up extra crew, so I'm kinda taking care of other things, too."

The Chief quirked an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Right now, I'm mostly taking care of the prisoner, organizing the loot and maintaining- "

"Hold on," interrupted the Chief. "The _loot_? Lieutenant, UNSC soldiers do not loot."

"Ah, wait, that's not what I meant!" Miia quickly said, shrinking away underneath his harsh tone. "ONI financed our first mission, but beyond that, Spectres don't get funded at all! They're meant to be self-reliant, paying for their own gear."

The Master Chief went silent.

"Ehm…sir?"

"Are you saying that we are expected to save the galaxy using money out of our own pocket?" He flatly asked, honestly hoping that Miia was joking, and that she _had_ simply been looting for fun.

"If you put it like that, yes. We have to fund ourselves, so I figured that taking weapons from enemy soldiers was _one_ way to get us started." She frowned somewhat, then quickly added, "But if you don't like that, sir, I can simply find a different way!"

"No, that's alright," replied the flabbergasted Spartan. They had to _fund themselves?_ "How much did you find?"

"A couple of plasma rifles and pistols, a handful of needlers, not much. There wasn't much time to gather up everything and when Shepard's crew cleared ship…" she shrugged.

The Chief understood what Miia meant. "I see. What about the Covenant ship? Is it still there?"

"Well…technically it's still there, but it hasn't moved an inch since we arrived in-system. Maybe the Captain has a plan for it."

That reminded him; "You served under Keyes before, didn't you? During the Skyllian Blitz? You were there on Elysium."

Miia flashed him another smile. "So, you have heard of me? Ah, I must say, I'm not as famous as the Spartans are, but I held up pretty well down on Elysium. Or at least, I like to think so."

The Chief had read about her role down there: she had single-handedly fought off an entire batarian assault on Elysium's capital city, holding off an army for an entire day until reinforcements finally arrived. "Without you, the enemy would have taken the city. You performed admirably."

Her cheeks flushed red as he said that. "Sir! You are making me blush! Still, I only served in the Covenant Theatre for a few missions, before we were all pulled back to Earth. I would have fared a lot worse if it were the Covenant…"

"Probably," said the Chief, completely missing the hurt look that briefly crossed Miia's face. "But if we're lucky, we won't be encountering the Covenant anymore."

With that said, the Spartan excused took his leave, deciding upon his next course of action. He decided to contact Captain Keyes, to see what he had in mind.

" _Keyes here."_

"Captain, sir," said the Chief as he rode the elevator to the crew quarters. "That Covenant vessel still hasn't moved?"

" _It's dead in the water. If it hasn't attacked the colony yet, it won't do so in the future. We think the infected might have gotten onboard, gotten to the crew."_

"Neutralize it," ordered the Chief. He reasoned that the destruction of a Covenant ship, _any_ Covenant ship, could never be a bad thing. It should also please the Councilors.

" _Of course Chief, we'll blow it out of the water."_

No sooner had the Spartan given the order, or he felt the ship move underneath his feet.

 _Good_ ; he wouldn't risk that thing powering up and attacking them in the rear.

Satisfied with the knowledge that the Covenant Frigate would soon become the new owner of two hyper-velocity MAC slugs, the Spartan made his way to the crew quarters, where their newest recruit was waiting for a proper debriefing.

Cortana, in the meantime, brought him up to speed. " _I've been reading Miss Arachnera's dossier. I think she might well be a good ally."_

The Chief stopped. "No."

" _That was fast. Why not-?"_

"Because she is a terrorist. Terrorists have no business on a military vessel." Cortana, being a smart AI, didn't need to be told that particular pearl of wisdom. What game was she playing?"

" _Given her background, it's not hard to imagine why she chose that style of life. We're short a crew, Chief."_

"Her background failed to become relevant when she joined a known terrorist organization. She has no rights anymore."

" _Well…the UNSC gave us the option of delivering her at a drop-off location for a bounty. But consider…"_

"Good. We'll need the credits."

" _Consider the alternative; if you can convince her to join our side, you'll have an effective combat unit for infiltration purposes. I think she could help increase Kyuri's combat effectiveness."_

But the Chief wouldn't have any of that. "Cortana, the Spartans were made to _kill_ her kind. You even bringing this up is a security breach."

The AI sighed in exasperation. When she spoke, her voice had a bitter tone to it, and blue static washed across his HUD. " _ **Fine**_ _! Have it your way."_

Wincing at the sudden noise assaulting his ear drums, the Spartan continued onwards towards the crew quarters. Cortana was going a bit overboard with recruitment; he needed to have a stern talk with her, sooner or later.

Still, the real stern talk was about to start. The Chief approached Kyuri's quarters; a simple, four-by-four room with basic commodities, with a set of spare clothes to replace her dirty, tattered, blood-covered ones.

He had decided that the Vampire had best stay in her quarters until further notice, as he still wasn't entirely sure what to do with her. On one hand, the was a civilian, completely untrained as far as he knew.

On the other hand, the way Cortana had described her, she could damn-near break the laws of physics. There _had_ to be a use for that.

The Spartan opened the door to the Vampire's, made the critical mistake of assuming that fifteen minutes was enough for a lady to get dressed, and subsequently barged in on Kyuri undressing herself.

The Vampire stared at the sudden intruder for a two, confused seconds, her pale cheeks slowly turning red, before she covered herself with her bat-like wings and shrieked.

~0~

* * *

 **Aboard UNSC** _ **Normandy SR-1**_

 **Conference rom**

Liara T'Soni opened her eyes. She felt groggy, like she had been drugged, but also warm. Comfortable, even. For a moment, she struggled with her blankets, as her limbs were weary and bruised. She felt a dull ache in her joints and a pressure weighing down on her head, like she had been hit by something heavy.

But most of all, she felt safe. Safe, because she wasn't stuck in that hell anymore. No longer was she confined in a metal tube, listening to raving demon and monsters. No longer did she have to risk her life for scarce drops of water and scraps of food.

She blinked, glancing around. She lay in a medical facility of some sorts, surrounded by pillows and blankets and comfort. The walls seemed to be made from glass, thick and blurred. The ceiling was made from metal, just like the floor. A spaceship? Well, wherever she was, she hoped she was far away from that hell.

Liara lay there for what felt like an hour, though it could have been minutes, merely enjoying the comfort of an actual bed with actual pillows.

It could not last forever. The door opened, and someone entered the room. Vaguely, the person looked like a human, though she obviously wasn't human. Humans didn't have horns, or a tail. Normally, Liara would have recognized her at once. After all, she liked to consider herself an expert at Liminal species and UNSC history. But her mind felt like pudding, and she couldn't get her thoughts in line.

Still, she knew that she didn't have to fear this woman.

"I recognize you," said Liara. "You saved me."

The woman smiled. "Did I?"

"I…yes, you did. On Therum…you and your friends saved me from the monsters. I never…I never thanked you."

"There is no need to thank me, sweetie. Any decent person would have done the same."

"That is true…but humanity has little reason to worry about aliens on their colonies."

The human - _devil! -_ her smile diminished somewhat. "I see you are a sharp one. True, humanity cannot even bring itself to care about their own, let alone aliens. However, you will find that those who went to war are generally more compassionate than those who live their lives in naivety and comfort. "

"Nonetheless, you have my thanks."

The Devil nodded, then averted her eyes. "My crew is gathering for a debriefing. We wish to speak about what happened on Therum. Dr. T'Soni…"

"Please," she quickly said. The Devil shot her a questioning look and she quickly continued. "C-call me Liara."

"Liara…" said the soldier. "Alright. I would like to invite you to our meeting, should you feel strong enough."

"You would have me?" Liara asked, surprised.

"I do not see why not?"

"It is just…well…" Liara looked away, somewhat embarrassed. There was a duality in her fascination with humanity, a cognitive dissonance that she could solve. She was fascinated with humanity, yes, but she also feared them a great deal. "It is just…my peers view my expertise in UNSC history as a…a foolish endeavor, a subject not worthy of their time. My kind rarely asks for my presence."

"But we are not your kind and we do ask. Will you come?"

"Yes!" Said Liara, despite her body protesting in pain. A chance to converse with humans, humans and Liminals in the military? Even on Therum, she had been surrounded mostly by turians and salarians and her fellow asari. "I would love that!"

Then, the Devil took her out of the medical room to a room in the back of the ship, the 'conference' room, where the members of the rescue team were already waiting. There were eight chairs in total, most of which were occupied. Liara saw two human males and one female, a krogan and a turian, as well as the quarian girl.

She remembered very little of what had happened, but she still remembered her name. _Tali._

"Dr. T'Soni," said one of the humans. "It's good to see you're alright. Did you get a clean bill of health?"

"Doctor Chakwas fixed her well," said the Devil. "Dehydration, malnutrition, sleep deprivation, but nothing physical we should worry about."

The doctor fixed her? But…she didn't _feel_ fixed. She still felt a tightness in her chest, a sickening feeling that had started on Therum and wouldn't go away. Maybe she still needed time?

The Commander quickly introduced the members of her crew. Liara, eager to memorize the names of her saviors, listened intently. "Please, call me Liara. I…I would like to thank you, for saving my life out there."

The human female gave her a look that made Liara's stomach tighten. Not everybody welcomed her aboard the vessel it seemed.

"Now, Liara, you find yourself in a rather…unique position," said the Commander. Humanity has made a push towards having their very own Spectre. As there were too many candidates to consider, the kings in the ivory towers decided on a competition."

"A…competition?" Repeated Liara. "Between Spectre candidates?"

"All friendly business," said the young human, "Jenkins". "We're not going to hurt each other."

The old krogan huffed. "Speak for yourself. We saw it on the ground; we screw them before they screw us."

"Screwing the Master Chief? _Not_ a good idea!" Shot back the turian.

"Meh. I can take him."

Master…Chief…that name rang familiar. It was a human rank, a very special human rank. "Wait…are you speaking about the Spartans? The legendary human warrior-cult?"

"Warrior cult?" Said the human woman, "Williams". "The Spartans aren't cultists! They're super-soldiers, the greatest warriors the UNSC has ever produced!"

"I -I did not mean any harm," Liara was quick to reply. "It is the war the asari refer to them; it is a great compliment!"

"Peace, Ashley," hushed the Commander. "Liara, we have need of your expertise. An important Council General, Desolas Arterius, has recently attacked one of our colonies, searching for a Prothean Beacon. He has allied himself with the geth, and it is the task of the Spectre candidates to bring him in."

"A _turian_ General attacked an UEG colony?" Exclaimed Liara. "By the Goddess, what was he thinking? The turians are your allies!"

"We know," said the older male, "Alenko". Part of our job is finding out why he did it."

Liara thought it strange that a turian General would attack a colony for a Prothean Beacon. However, she thought it even stranger that the Council would send in not one, but _three_ Spectre candidates, amongst whom was the _Master Chief_ himself. Just who was this Desolas Arterius? "I…I see. I would gladly assist you in your mission, but…what need could you have of me?"

"Desolas and his group are looking for something called, the Conduit," said Alenko. "Do you know something about it?"

Liara fidgeted nervously. She had the feeling that she was about to be caught up in something she really did not want to be caught up in. "Only that it is somehow tied to the Prothean extinction. That is my second area of expertise; one that I have spent academic effort on. For the past fifty years of my life I've been trying to figure out just what happened to them."

"Fifty years?" Asked the turian, "Garrus". "How old are you precisely?"

"I…I loathe to admit it, but…I have only just reached my 106th year."

"Wow, you look really good for that age!" Blurted out Jenkins.

"Asari can live even longer than Elder Devils, Jenkins," said Shepard. "One who has barely just reached past her first century would still be considered…"

"A child," Liara quietly said.

"Young, at least."

"Yes…well, that is still the reason my research will not be taken at face value by my peers," continued Liara. "They tend to dismiss my hypotheses on what happened to the Protheans."

"Hypo -whatnow?" Said Jenkins.

Nobody paid him any attention. "And those hypotheses would be…?" Said the Commander.

"The Protheans didn't just vanish -they were cleansed from the galaxy, wiped out to such a degree that only their ruins remain. No corpses, no bodies, nothing. Even stranger, the Protheans never seemed to have existed within the Orion Arm, where humanity and the Covenant came from."

"That doesn't seem so strange, considering the heritage of the Forerunners," said Kaidan. "They existed before the Protheans, so they must have kept them out of their own region."

"Yes, but I am not done yet! They Forerunners disappeared a hundred thousand years ago, the Protheans fifty thousand years ago. Even if we somehow accept that the Protheans never tried to colonize the Orion arm-"

Liara did not miss the meaningful looks the Commander and Alenko exchanged.

"I'm sorry, did I miss something?"

Alenko cleared his throat. "The ehm…the Protheans were likely kept at bay by the mechanical creations of the Forerunners. Automatons, layer upon layer of security systems, there are plenty of arguments why the Protheans never made it into the Orion Arm."

"Oh," Liara said, flustered. "Well. I will have to revise my theory then. Regardless, the Protheans were not the last ones to vanish! The cycle has repeated itself many times over!"

"What cycle?" Williams brusquely asked.

"Several times before the destruction of the Prothean empire, other civilizations have risen to power, before something suddenly and, with great prejudice I should add, exterminated them!" Liara was quick to reply. "The Protheans themselves based their technology on the remains of who came before them. Even their greatest creations, the Citadel and the Mass Relays, are based on the technology of long-forgotten empires. And just like them, the Protheans vanished without a trace as well. I dedicated my life to finding out why."

"I can, with great confidence and a reliable, albeit classified source, say that you will not find the solution to that riddle by the Forerunners," said the Commander.

"Why not?" Liara enthusiastically said. "They disappeared fifty-thousand years before the Protheans did! The data matches. What if the same thing that happened to the other civilizations, also happened to them?"

"I know I ask for a lot, Liara, but trust me when I say the UNSC discovered what happened to the Forerunners. Had the same thing happened to the other civilizations, we would not have been here today. None of us would have."

"I…" with great disappointment settling in her stomach, Liara chose to accept the Commander's word for it. After all, only a fool would ignore the advice of a Devil. "I see. Then, we must rule out the Forerunners as part of the answer."

"So if the Forerunners were killed off by a different thing, and that different thing didn't kill the Protheans, what did?" Asked Garrus.

"I suppose that is where the Reapers come in," said the Commander. "Liara, tell me. Does the name "Reaper" mean anything to you?"

Eager to aid her savior, Liara racked her mind for the term, but she couldn't find anything. The word just didn't mean anything to her. "I am sorry. What are the Reapers?"

The Commander huffed. "Oh, you know, tis just the name we have given to the race of sentient machines who supposedly exterminated the Protheans. To the geth, they are gods or, more specifically, the heralds of something they refer to as a Goddess."

"And the Conduit is the means to bringing the Reapers back," Added Alenko. "According to a scavenged geth memory core, at least."

"Wow…this is a whole lot of information to take in," said Liara. "I do not have any information regarding the Conduit and…well, the only information regarding a Goddess is a…a reference to old Thessian Scripture."

"What scripture?" Asked Garrus. "This isn't a "By the Goddess!" type of thing, is it?"

"No," replied Liara, a tad insulted by the turian's attitude. "No, the Goddess I refer to is known as the The Bringer of Light, or Keeper of Crypts. Ancient scripture describes it as a being of light, but I do not remember more than that."

"Reaaaal helpful…" muttered Williams.

"I got a story based on ancient scripture too," said the krogan. "Wanna hear it?"

"Not now," said the Commander. "Doctor, the Reapers?"

"I…no, I don't have any information about the Reapers, I fear. They sound like this turian General made them up, to sway the geth to his side."

"Unfortunately, we can dispute that," sighed the Elder Devil.

"There was a Prothean Beacon on Eden Prime, the colony that was attacked by Desolas Arterius," Kaidan quickly explained. "Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan one-one-seven, commanding officer of the Spartan Special Forces, took the brunt when the Beacon malfunctioned. Several AI's confirmed his testimony that it burned a message of some sorts into his mind."

"There can be no greater authority than the Master Chief himself," interjected Garrus.

Kaidan shot him an annoyed look. "…right. The vision the Beacon gave him was about the Reapers."

"But that…oh, but that makes sense!" Said Liara. "The Beacons were designed to transmit information directly into the brain of the user. No wonder Desolas tried to attack a UNSC colony to get it."

Wrex grunted. "Wait, so the Demon's not a loon?"

That last word translated to Liara as an insult and she acted accordingly. "No, far from it! To be able to make sense of a Prothean Beacon…he must be a remarkable man."

"That would be enough about the Chief, thank you very much," the Commander hissed. "Back to the Conduit. What do you know about it?"

"Only that it was involved with the Prothean extinction, I fear." Said Liara. Suddenly, she felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her, and her vision blurred for a few moments.

"I believe we have pressed you enough," said the Commander. "You have yet to fully recover from your ordeals."

Liara started protesting, but then the headaches struck, and she immediately bit back her response. Goddess, what was wrong with her?

"Our medic, Doctor Chakwas, will take a look at you," continued the Elder Devil. "You should not push yourself too hard until then."

"Y-yes…" Liara timidly replied. All of a sudden, she wanted nothing more than to bury her head amidst a pile of pillows and drift away. "O-of course."

"The rest of you is dismissed."

Liara barely noticed the human rush towards her while the others left. Only when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gently helped her up from her chair, did she realize that it was young Jenkins who was escorting her back to the medical bay.

She murmured a quick "thank you", but didn't know what else to do, what else to _say_. She was alone on an alien vessel, pulled into a war she didn't want to fight, against an enemy she knew nothing about.

Liara supposed that, at this point, things couldn't really get worse, and she took her solace from that thought.

 **~0~**

* * *

 **09:37 Hours (Military Calendar) / UNSC Stealth Destroyer** _ **Reach**_

The Master Chief, fighting back a sudden bout of headache, patiently waited until the Vampire girl finished putting on her pants. "Did you grow up on Arcadia?"

Behind him -as the girl had insisted he keep his back to her while she got dressed, for _some_ reason- Kyuri took a few moments to reply. "Yes," she said with a small voice. "My father and I had a small house there."

"And when the Covenant came, you evacuated with the rest?"

The girl didn't answer.

"Miss Kyuri?"

"You can turn around now…" she quietly said.

The Chief did as she said, crossing his arms as he did so. She looked healthier in her new outfit. Less savage, much more vulnerable. How such a petite girl could have caused a massacre…the mind boggled. "Do you remember what happened to the ship you evacuated on?"

"I remember something going wrong…alarms, people panicking…" She timidly looked away. "Women and children were told to enter the cryo tubes. The next thing I saw when I woke…was the dead body of a turian."

The Chief had thought as much; the girl had nothing useful to say after all. "Nothing to indicate why you ended up on the other side of the universe?"

She shook her head, the corners of her eyes growing moist.

And this was supposed to be their next teammember?

"Do you have any military training?" Continued the Chief. s

"N-no…"

"Basic self-defense training?"

"I dislike violence…"

The Chief was going to have a stern talk with a certain AI. "Then we have a problem. This is a military vessel you are on, with a highly-classified mission of the utmost importance."

She averted her gaze. "I don't want to get in your way."

She spoke so soft, with such uncertainty, that the Chief was almost starting to doubt that she was the same Vampire as the one who had silenced Therum. "Do you have relatives on other planets? Places you can go?"

Tears ran down her cheeks now, but she kept her composure. "Arcadia was one of the last bastions. I don't know about others. In that, I am alone."

The Master Chief considered himself the second worst individual in the galaxy to comfort a crying woman, closely behind Tartarus. But Cortana was occupied, and he had to do _something_. "You are too dangerous to place in a refugee camp, or a foster family."

He regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. The girl seemed to flinch at his voice alone, let alone what he actually said. "I…I didn't mean for that to happen, I just…I…"

The Spartan sighed. Now what was he supposed to do? "From what I've heard, Vampires are quite rare."

That comment made her even more upset than the previous one; she flinched even worse than before, and the Chief detected a faint trembling in her limbs. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Our Artificial Intelligence seems to think you possess abilities which could be useful for the mission," the Spartan quickly continued. "You could put them to good use."

"H-how?" She asked.

He almost told her that he expected her to do the same she did to the aliens on Therum, except to hostile aliens, but thought better of it. "We are on a mission to stop a rogue Council General from finding and activating an ancient, Prothean device. Our enemies are numerous, but we have the advantage. We need to _keep_ that advantage."

"I don't know how to fight," she quietly admitted again.

The Spartan stayed patient. "We don't need you to. If you join us, we would have you gather information."

"What sort of information?"

His throat was starting to ache. "Everything. Generally, every situation demands new information. Troop movement, weapon deployment, everything. We know little about our enemy. That needs to change."

She blinked the tears away. "Do you mean spying? Like in the movies?"

The Chief didn't know what movies she was talking about. "Just…just think about it. We can keep you safe, but you can help keep everyone safe."

With those words, he turned around and left. He hadn't even taken three steps before Cortana´s voice suddenly echoed through his helmet.

" _You handled that pretty well."_

"You were listening," noted the Chief. It wasn't as much an accusation as it was an observation, but he still felt like he had been needlessly left on his own.

" _I'm currently inhabiting the most advanced warship the UNSC has ever built, bar exceptions. I listen to everyone, Chief."_

"That -wait, everyone?"

There was a hint of sadistic joy in her voice when she replied. " _Saren is currently reading a book, Miia is singing in the shower, Dracosa is writing in her diary and Rachnera is talking in her sleep. Need more?"_

The Chief shook his head. `That will be quite enough. Cortana, there is such a thing as privacy."

" _Hah! Not if they are working for you. Never as long as they are onboard this ship. Now Chief, your throat is probably hurting too much for you to argue, so you should take a break."_

The Spartan shook his head. Cortana's attitude was getting a bit too carefree for him. "Last time I checked, I was the Spectre candidate."

" _Oh, if you're going to be like that, I should probably mention that your ONI handler is ready for you."_

He cocked an eyebrow. "My ONI handler?"

" _Fostering good relations between the Council and the UNSC is a daunting challenge, Chief. You are a literal link between the two groups and everyone wants to be certain you are up for the task. Because of your cultural background-"_

"My what?"

" _A Spectre handler was deemed unwise. Also, you already have Saren. So ONI needs a link to you progress."_

"I don't follow you."

Cortana sighed explosively. " _Just meet her in the comm room, would you?"_

"…sure…" Conceded the Chief. He didn't know what was going on with the AI. Arguing was out; a smart Artificial Intelligence was literally impossible to beat with words. With her processing power, she could draw one second out into an eternity to come up with the perfect reply.

Doctor Halsey was one individual who was able to beat an AI at a discussion. Seeing how she had made Cortana, she would probably also know what was wrong with her.

John made a mental note to ask the doctor and made his way to the comm room, where the supposed handler was waiting for him.

The Spartans served under Naval Special Weapons, a division of the UNSC Special Forces with important ties to Section Three of the Office of Naval Intelligence. Before Spectrehood, John had belonged to ONI. But now, he was supposedly working for the good of all Council members.

Which begged the question: what did this handler want from him?

The Spartan stood in front of the holographic display where he had met the Council just an hour ago. After a few moments, the projectors flared to life, and a woman stood in front of him.

She was dressed like a typical government agent, with a black blazer and matching skirt. Underneath the blazer she wore a white dress shirt, with a black tie. Her hair was long, much too long for her to serve in any combat function.

She wore sunglasses, which made it hard for the Chief to discern her intentions.

"Good morning, Master Chief Petty Officer one-one-seven," she said. She held a solid mug in her right hand, which was filled with a dark, steaming liquid. "What's wrong? Surely they have told you about me? After all, I am you ONI handler, Smith!"

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Smith," the Chief politely said.

"The rules of this Spectre candidacy are complicated and foreign. As a candidate yourself, you seem to be largely ignorant of them."

The Chief frowned. Ignorant?

"Additionally, your crew is filled with extra-species persons! You need the biological and cultural know-how to handle them. After all, they are no Spartans."

"No. They are not."

"So!" She said, way too cheerful for the Chief's liking, "Fear not! For the sake of ONI's satisfaction, the Council's satisfaction, the UNSC's satisfaction and even Earth's satisfaction, I will be your handler!"

Those were a lot of people to satisfy. Of course, perfectly set up so that he could not refuse any of them. He was going to have a talk with Cortana after this. "And what do you need from me?" He asked.

She smirked. "How nice of you to ask! Daily reports, of course. After-mission reports filed with relevant attachments. Psychological evaluations when the need arises."

The Chief blinked. "Is that all?"

"You are taking this in stride. Good! That is good. For now, the after-mission report for Therum will be good enough. It is only our introduction…and I trust you and I will be working together closely in the future."

The Chief felt a hint of uncertainty at that. "If you say so, Miss Smith."

Her smirk disappeared. "Well then. You are dismissed, Chief."

She stepped away from the projectors on her end, leaving the Spartan alone in an empty room. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, wondering how he was ever going to protect the galaxy if it kept throwing stuff like _this_ at him.

 **~0~**

* * *

 **08:30 Hours, (Military Calendar) /**

 **UNSC Cruiser** _ **Balmung,**_ **Remina system**

The highly esteemed, much vaunted, wise Councilors had lost a system.

An entire star system.

A couple of centuries ago, this big-ass listening post they had positioned in the Remina system had gone dark. They sent a couple of ships in to check up on it, then they had gone dark too.

Then, the entire Mass Relay had gone dark as well. Stayed that way for years, until last week, when it had suddenly and mysteriously reactivated again.

Now, the big cheeses wanted their toughest, most cigar-chomping Spectre on it to investigate just what the hell had gone down.

So Sergeant Major Johnson had picked up his investigation cap, recapped the story to the handful of people that was now his crew and told Sylph to take them to the Remina system.

He hadn't heard from the Chief or the Commander yet, so he presumed they had succeeded in their mission as well.

With some questions on his mind and some time to kill, Sergeant Major Avery Junior Johnson thought it a good idea to visit his crewmembers.

In the massive Halcyon-Class Cruiser, even a man like him would take hours to locate a single person. The kilometer-long ship could house a thousand naval crewmen, excluding the Marine detachment.

Lucky for him, he had an ace up his sleeve.

" _Nihlus is currently sitting in mess hall 03,"_ Sylph spoke through Johnson's omni-tool, which was connected to his helmet, which in turn hung from his bag. " _He's having a romantic one-turian dinner."_

"On his own?"

" _Yup! Wanna join him? I want to join him!"_

"We'll join Nihlus, Sylph. Keep your pants on."

" _I don't wear pants! …I wear a skirt!"_

The _Balmung_ was a lot like the _Pillar of Autumn_ ; its mess hall was mostly automated. A chef and full-service gallery should theoretically be available to the crew. He still needed to hire them, was all.

As Johnson entered a service elevator, Sylph brought him up to speed. The little AI emerged from his omni-tool, using its custom-tooled holographic emitters to project her avatar: a small, white-haired fairy with green clothes and white-green wings. "Ah, that's better. Let's see…Shep and Chief both found the asari on Therum. Who took her, I don't know. Ehm…a turian genetics lab-thingy was robbed, some days ago. Some of their gene banks were robbed clean."

"Hmm…nasty business."

"I know, I heard secret alien modifications can be nasty! Humans don't play with those as much, except for _you know_ but pwooh! Those aliens!"

"Focus, Sylph."

"Err…right! I've compiled the dossiers of the Marines you want to recruit! They should be finding a green letter soon enough."

"Thanks."

"Uhm…can I ask you something?"

The elevator came to a hold, and the Sergeant headed towards the mess hall. "Shoot."

"Desolas Arterius belongs to the Aestus Initiative. We sort of proved that the entire organization was rotten, yet the Council only condemned Desolas."

"So?"

" _So_ , what is to keep the Initiative from inserting another Desolas in another colony?"

The Sergeant thought long and hard on that, to make sure his reply contained all the wisdom and philosophy a smart AI could need. "Guns. Lots of 'em."

"Hmmm…you're so smart, Avery!"

"Damn right I am! Come on, let's go find our Spectre."

Nihlus was indeed sitting alone at his table, eating something that looked like prawns. He didn't look up when Johnson approached him, right up to the point where the Sergeant stood behind, whereupon he put his fork down and said, "Something I can help you, Avery?"

"It's about the Spectres. I got a few questions, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Sit down, Avery. Ask your questions."

Johnson preferred to keep standing. "I couldn't help but notice our grocery list takes a lotta credits. Who's gonna be paying us?"

"What an excellent question. I do hope the answer will be sufficient." Nihlus scraped his throat. "You will."

…Johnson decided to sit down after all. "Nihlus, help a Marine out. I thought you said I was supposed to finance my own missions."

"It is the way of the Spectres, Avery. We all have to finance our own operations."

Johnson jabbed a gloved finger at the turian. "Listen here Nihlus. If the UNSC expected her special forces to finance their own missions, there wouldn't be a galaxy left to safe."

"Let me explain. We get a basic salary from our own military, but we act as completely independent agents. Unlimited freedom in decision making thus comes with a price. I tend to keep myself funded by looting every single item not bolted shut whenever I hit a pirate base or something like it. Others, like Saren, invest in promising companies and other projects. Others, like Tela Vasir, aim for bounties and turn in criminals to the Citadel, alive or dead."

Avery nodded, seeing how that made sense. If he had sold every single Grunt skull or Elite spine he acquired during the war, he would have been a rich Johnson. "And I guess, if the Council likes you enough, they up your funding?"

"Essentially, yes."

The Sergeant stood again. "Then we got funding to do. After I return from the recon, of course."

"Good luck, Avery. I hope whatever you find, doesn't try to kill and eat you."

"Likewise!"

As Johnson still lacked an actual crew, let alone a team, he would be tackling this operation alone. Luckily, Miranda was an excellent pilot. As long as the _Balmung_ didn't have an actual pilot, she'd be dropping him off.

" _Where do you want me to put you down?"_ Miranda asked him not half an hour later, when the Pelican broke atmosphere.

"Back on the bridge, you and the officers spotted this cute little village," replied Johnson. "Drop me off a few clicks west of there."

" _If you're certain…"_

"I'm always certain!"

And thus it came to pass. Minutes later, the Pelican lifted off again, sneakily, and the Sergeant Major was left with plenty of time to investigate the village on his own. The lack of any signs of civilization on the planet wasn't promising; no electricity, no comms channel, nothing.

The only sign of activity was around here, somewhere…

Since he couldn't see anything except for the forest, which stretched on in every direction.

Lost in the sea of green, Johnson did what the Chief would do in such a position: ask the tiny lady for help. "Sylph, need some help."

" _Ah! According to the scans, there's supposed to be a small village just east of your position. Hold on…"_

A small map appeared on his omni-tool, displaying his own position, the village's, and every single tree between them.

'Filter out the trees, Sylph."

" _Right. Sorry."_

The trees disappeared, leaving the Sergeant with a clear route to follow. "Thanks. I'm moving."

And move he did, for at least half an hour, marching through the forest at a pace only Liminals could keep up with. He raced past trees, boulders, creeks and open clearings, until he finally reached the village.

" _I'm seeing lifesigns ahead. They're…organic, for sure…they have to be sentient, otherwise they wouldn't have built a place like this. Do you think they're turians? Asari?"_

Johnson whipped out a pair of binoculars and observed the people. "Neither. They're humans."

" _Eh? Eeeeeeeeeh?"_

It seemed like your typical sleepy village from the outside. Except the buildings were made from wood and bricks. They had little farms, with little wells to keep the people supplied with water.

The Sergeant moved further south. The houses remained small and simple, except they got larger and more fancy the further south he went. At the far end of the village stood a big-ass temple, designed like those ancient Greek things back at Earth.

"I'm going in."

" _Avery, wait! You don't know what these people are like! They might be cannibals, or they might practice evil magic!"_

"Don't worry Sylph; this Sergeant-Major has an ace up his sleeve. "He patted his sidearm meaningfully. Sylph interpreted it differently, sadly enough, and was scared into silence.

It didn't matter in the end. The Sergeant halted when a rumbling noise reverberated through the ground. He raised his fist -to nobody in particular- and said – to nobody in particular- "Hold up!"

Spartans stuck to their fancy suit as a comfort blanket, Sergeant Majors stuck to being Sergeant Majors, even when they were alone.

That sounded like it came from the forest. The villagers started running around in panic, shouting at each other in words that Avery's translator managed to translate into English.

Which should have been impossible.

Deciding to leave the strange village behind for the moment, the Sergeant made his way to the source of that giant bang.

It didn't take him very long to find it. Up ahead, a dozen or so meters deeper into the forest, something had crashed into the ground with force to make a crater. The trees in a wide radius around it had snapped like matchsticks and a cover of fine dust blanketed the area.

And in that crater lay a woman.

Except not.

She had pointed ears and lavender-colored skin, with large tattoos running down her left side. A strange gem, in the shape of a vertical eye, sat in the center of her chest. Her long, white hair flowed all the way to the base of her spine. A pair of strangely-shaped horns protruded from the back of her head, curving around to the front. Two pink flowers adorned the left side of her face, just behind her ear.

Johnson frowned when he saw that her lower body was that of an enormous snake, glistering with dark, red scales.

A Lamia?

The lady sure looked like she had the fashion sense of one; she wore black gloves that ran up past her elbows, a skirt that looked like it was made from black scales and a cloth collar that could barely qualify as a top.

Johnson had to admit to himself; she could hardly be called ugly. In fact, her appearance called out to a certain masculine part of him, which now seemed to tingle in response.

But damnit, now was not the time to shave his chin! The woman could be hurt!

Cautiously walking around the crater, Johnson felt the air around him singe and pop, like an electric field. He felt the hairs in the back of his neck raise, and he scanned his surroundings again to check if he really was alone.

"Miss?"

No response. He stepped closer to the creature, taking note of the gold-red jewelry that hung from her scale-skirt. He'd never seen anything like it before.

Who was she?

"Miss, are you alright?"

Her eyes slowly opened.

Suddenly, Johnson felt a cold pit drop into her stomach, but he didn't know why. All he knew was that there was something terribly wrong with this whole situation. "Miss, I need you to remain calm. You might be injured-"

The Lamia slithered into an upright position, promptly ignoring the Sergeant Major. She brought a hand to her head, moaning quietly.

Which, in hindsight, had to make sense. Either she had pulled a Chief, crashing from an enormous distance and burying herself in a crater, or she had pulled an Arbiter, catching an explosion face-first and burying herself in a crater.

And then she noticed him. Her eyes narrowed into a tight glare, which the Sergeant Major was only happy to answer with one from his own.

"You. Tell me where I am."

Johnson cocked an eyebrow at that blunt tone of hers. Something about this situation seemed fishy to him. He couldn't put a finger on it though. "Well, I can definitely tell you which _system_ we're in. Hang on…"

He was about to reach for his chewy cigar when the woman's eyes flashed with a strange light.

Then, Johnson went rigid.

It was as if an outside force had taken control over his mind, forcing him - _compelling him_ \- to answer the woman's questions or die trying. Problem was, a mind like his was hard to keep a lid on, and his inner Marine fought back with ever stick and rock it had in its possession.

"You frakking cracking - naggins snack!" Yelled Johnson in an attempt to formulate a sophisticated argument.

The woman stared at him in quiet shock, distraught with the way his mind had processed her magic-induced trance. "I…what?"

Johnson tried to shake off the trance, but it didn't quite work out. "Just aba-gaba daba DA!"

She sighed and closed her eyes. "Great, I broke another one…"

Finally, Johnson managed to shake the gibberish off. "What the…"

"And who might you be?" She asked with detached interest.

"The name's Johnson, and I don't take kindly to that magical mumbo-jumbo!"

"Hmm…few humans can resist my magic. Johnson, you said?"

The Marine warily eyed her. "Sergeant Major Johnson. Are with the UNSC?"

"What nonsense would that be?"

 _That's a no…_ " Never mind. Lady, I ain't got a clue where we are. There's a village to the east, but the folks there know nothing."

"Village to the east…I see. Heh…you don't smell like any man I've ever smelled before. Where are you from?"

If she didn't know the UNSC, she wouldn't be understanding a thing. "I'm not from around. I came here to investigate a missing ship. You know anything?"

She raised her eyebrows somewhat. "I don't know about a ship. However…" she sniffed, then gave him one creepy-ass smile. "You _do_ smell nice."

Johnson took that as his cue to leave. He wasn't about to mess with magic, hypnotizing Lamia women again. "Then you must love the smell of green. Imma continue on my way now, you take it easy."

"Stop."

Her long, muscled tail stretched towards him, wrapping the Sergeant Major up in its coils. She dragged him across the ground towards her, holding him at eye-height.

"Why didn't you kill me when I was unconscious?"

Johnson blinked. "'Scuse me?"

"I was vulnerable at the time. It was a good opportunity."

"Lady, I'm one hundred percent Marine! And in my beloved corps, we don't harm civilians, we _serve_ and _protect_!"

She eyed him for a couple of seconds, her eyes cold. "That's an…interesting answer. You are a soldier, aren't you? Killing monsters should be your goal."

Johnson flexed his muscles, grunting with exertion. She was tough, and he wasn't a Spartan, but he had yet to meet a force that could separate him from his sweet, sweet cigars. "Hang on…" His rank filled him with inhuman strength, allowing him to pull his right arm free from the Lamia's coils. He pulled out his chewy cigar, stuffed it into his mouth and reached for his lighter. When he couldn't find it, he asked, "Don't suppose you got magic fire in your eyes?"

"How-?" She exclaimed with dismay. "But you're not a monster!"

"Hell, ma'am…" he put his cigar away again, smirking. "I know of several hundred dead covvies who'd say otherwise. Now people like me, we got no trouble with monsters. They're people, just like humans."

"You are saying you would protect everyone?"

"In a heartbeat."

"What for?"

It didn't look like she understood. Instead, there was a look of confusion on her face. "I'm fighting for peace. A galaxy where people can live without fear of alien bastards burning their houses down.'

"That's it?"

"That's it."

And then…

"…are you an idiot?"

Then the woman totally rejected Johnon's entire life with just four words.

"What kind of reason is that? Fighting for peace, for everyone? With everybody working together, without issues? That's nothing but idiotic."

Avery was about to retort when he remembered Harvest. And Reach. And Earth. And everything in-between. Thirty years of war, where aliens had killed humans, aliens killed aliens and humans killed humans. He had killed his way through the milky way, but what had changed?

And yet…"It's not rainbows and sunshine, but nothing is. Our people banded together in the war and saved all our asses."

"War? Which war?"

"The Human-Covenant War?"

"…what Covenant?"

Johnson simply stared at her. She didn't know about the UNSC _and_ the Covenant? And she called _him_ idiotic? "Never mind. What's a girl like you doing in a crater like that?"

The Lamia let out a sigh and released him. "That's not important for you… heh…everyone working together in peace…what a _childish_ imagination." She beckoned him away with her hand. "You should go now. I have things to attend to."

Johnson huffed. "Fine. You be that way. I got enough to worry about myself! Hah!"

And so, the two of them parted ways.

For now.

~0~

* * *

 **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: WARFARE: ARMOURED WARFARE: M808 PANZER SCORPION IV**

 _The M808 Panzer Scorpion IV was a UNSC Main Battle Tank whose function evolved from an infantry support role to a vehicle-fighting role. It became the backbone of the UNSC Marine Corps in the Citadel Theatre. Its simple configuration meant it could be equipped and upgraded for a wide variety of operations, while the lack of hostile plasma weaponry meant it could be easily mass produced without requiring additional armor plating._

 _The primary armament of the Panzer Scorpion tank is the 90mm Smooth Bore High Velocity Cannon. A state of the art cannon, the 90mm can handle most armoured vehicles the armies faced in the Citadel Theatre can throw at them. It is mounted on a fully automated turret_

 _This turret also houses a co-axial gun, a Heavy Machine Gun firing 12.7x99mm rounds. This chain gun is fed from an internal drum which has be manually reloaded, but carries sufficient ammunition stows to allow it to operate for long periods of time._


	17. 2,6: Daily life in a haunted mansion

**AN:** looks like someone finally noticed the Dead Space reference. Anyhow, chapter 17. As always, progress on future updates can be tracked on my profile page.

~0~

* * *

 _Most times, he had to fight to remember._

" _Moving up," Kelly told him through a private COM channel._

" _Single enemy contact," Sam told him. "Neutralized."_

 _Not this time._

" _One here, too," said Fred. "Neutralized._

 _This was where he lost Sam._

 _The Master Chief halted, raising his fist. Hidden in the darkness of the forest, shrouded by the tallest trees, his team stopped. He knew they did. They always did._

" _Where is 034?" Asked the Master Chief._

" _Holding the right flank, sir," replied Linda._

 _He had to know, he had to see. "Show me. Show me Sam."_

" _Sir?" Said Fred._

 _John ignored him. "Show me Sam!"_

 _The scene changed. The forest grew lighter, the shadows shortened as the sunlight broke through the canopy._

" _Come again, sir?" Said Linda._

 _John sighed. He knew what happened. "Where is Spartan-034?"_

 _Despite knowing what had happened, Linda's words still caused an emptiness within him. "Gone, John."_

 _Fred walked up to him. "He's been gone for a long time, John. Time to let it go."_

 _John shook his head. "Don't call me that," he replied. He always did. He didn't know why. "Don't say my name."_

John woke with a start. He was convinced, absolutely convinced he was still in the forest and that he had to hide, hide from the creatures that took Sam from them.

Then, two things occurred to him in rapid succession. One: he still wore his armor. This time, he could fight-

And two: he wasn't in the forest anymore.

John took a moment to collect his bearings. Solid steel surrounded him on all sides. He spotted a shower cabin, a personal locker and a cabinet. He was aboard a ship.

 _His_ ship.

He moved to cradle his face, thought better and wiped the cold sweat off instead.

Glancing at his personal locker, he saw Cortana's holographic figure wave at him.

"Lot's of brain activity this night," she told him. "Did you dream again?"

The Chief winced at that remark. Completely innocuous, yet he couldn't help but feel like Cortana knew how often those sorts of dreams haunted his nights. "Nothing worth noting."

"Nothing worth noting-?" Cortana replied, disbelievingly. "Fine, be that way. Might I ask why you didn't take your armor off for this night? I know the bed is reinforced, but…"

The Chief didn't respond to her question; she already knew the answer.

Instead, he reviewed the _Reach's_ to-do list. Lieutenant Luficinae put it together for the crew, claiming that it was motivational trick she picked up during her time in the army. Copies of it hung in every section of the ship.

The objective at the very top read "Git Desolas".

Unfortunately, that was out of the question for today.

The remaining orders read "git crew", "git supplies", "git moneyz" and "solve the matter of the POW's terrorist affiliations".

John made a mental note to talk to Miia about her choice of words. "We'll be dropping off the prisoner at the exchange location today. Sent the coordinates to Cap- to Keyes."

Cortana must have noticed his slip-up there, but she thankfully didn't comment on it. "Done. Are you at least going to talk to the girl?"

"No."

"Why not?" Exclaimed Cortana.

"Because she is a terrorist. Terrorism is punishable by death," the Chief patiently explained.

"She's not a terrorist!" Argued Cortana. "She is a radicalized youth who fell in with the wrong people. UNSC policy must have pushed her-"

"Into an assassination attempt on a Special Forces operative in the heart of a galactic community," interrupted the Spartan. Circumstances be damned.

Cortana didn't respond to that, thankfully, so the Chief proceeded to make his way to the mess hall. He hoped that, since he got up early, that the place would be relatively calm.

He was mistaken.

The _Reach's_ mess hall was like the _Pillar of Autumn's_ in that it was a spacious room with support beams scattered throughout its interior to provide more integrity. The mess hall was equipped with automated food and drink dispensers, though the lack of on-board cooks was something that did not go unmissed.

It was also occupied by every single crewman that the Destroyer carried.

On one table, the _Reach's_ bridge crew noisily enjoyed their meal. Lieutenants Pattillo and Ramsey were discussing the breaking system on the Warthogs, while Lieutenant Jones was busy chewing out Ensign Free about some sort incident regarding slow-motion video footage

At the table next to that, Lieutenant Hikowa quietly enjoyed a cup of coffee, while Ensign Lovell -the navigations officer, the Chief believed- worked at something on his omni-tool. Captain Keyes sat a few spaces away, reading an old-fashioned paper of all things.

The table opposite of his seated the current Marine Detachment. Despite having been designed with extraspecies individuals in mind, the table was only barely large enough for Lieutenant Lucifinae and Corporal Dracosa to properly fit. Even without their hardsuits, the two Liminals took up quite some space.

Compared to them, the Vampire girl seemed so shy that it bordered on uncomfortable. Her yellow eyes constantly darted from one table to the other, but she never made eye-contact.

About as out of place as a Grunt in a squad of Jackals.

The Echidna spotted him first. Her elongated ears perked up and she smiled, then waved.

The Chief tried to remember the last time he wandered into a busy mess hall like this one. A crew without any of his Spartans wasn't a crew that he usually wanted to associate with.

Everything about this new war just _screamed_ at him.

He ignored the nonverbal attempts at communication, returned the salutes the bridge crew offered him and made his way to the food dispenser. The dispensers were stocked via an internal conveyer from the galley. The little slots at the sides of the dispensers were for waste disposal.

The Chief, never having developed a particular taste for the servings of such food dispensers, merely started at the top left of the options.

Turkey dinner.

He snorted. The chances that the _Reach_ had actual turkey were nihil. Soy-based substitutes, most likely.

After that, the Master Chief headed to the bridge, to review the coming mission. It took him a few online articles on the Extranet to understand the reason behind the idea that Spectres were not funded by the Council. In hindsight, it made sense. The best possible equipment was very expensive, to the point that high-grade equipment might well exceed any appropriated budget. Raising that budget would be a political and bureaucratic mess, considering the democracy on the Citadel. Spectres funding themselves was the best solution to bypass the red string, but it also hamstringed them should they be unable to do so on their own.

Turning the young Liminal in to the UNSC was for the best. They were supposed to meet up with a handler – different from Miss Smith, apparently- on a garden world in the outskirts of the Terminus Systems, which the UNSC still had to add to the list of viable colonies.

Everything was going smoothly on the bridge, as expected of Captain Keyes´ crew. They greeted and saluted him as he entered the bridge and he told them to remain at ease; they all had a job to do.

"Good morning Master Chief," said the Captain. He still wore his Naval Officer uniform; a dress-gray tunic with a polished shoulder insignia.

"Jacob," the Chief politely greeted him. It felt wrong to address a senior officer by his _first name_ of all things, but the Captain insisted on it. "About this planet we're heading to."

"Feels strange, doesn't it?" Said Jacob. "You'd think that, with the Covenant on our tail, the top brass would have every viable garden world colonized."

In the Chief's experience, such discrepancies usually meant trouble of the most classified sort. "Either they found Forerunner relics down there, or they have another reason to keep the word down," he mused.

"Either way, we should expect trouble," replied the Captain. "We'll be reaching our destination in ten minutes or so.

True to Keyes' word, the crew leapt to attention roughly ten minutes later, when they reached their destination. "Entering normal space in thirty seconds."

"Engage all stealth systems," ordered the Chief. "Keep us as dark as possible."

"Aye."

"Entering normal space in three…two…one…" Declared one of the bridge Officers.

The view screen filled with green light. Smears of stars came into focus as the _Reach_ exited Slipspace.

There was a brief delay between the Officer's announcement and the _Reach_ truly transitioning from Slipspace. The instant it did, Cortana ran a scan.

"Alert, another vessel is already orbiting the planet. Profile matches Templar vessel, a light Frigate," she called. Stealth Systems are engaged, dropping a data probe now."

The Chief supposed this was his cue. "Did they spot us?"

It took Cortana a moment to review her readings. "Negative, no energy readings or hails. We're completely dark."

The Chief wasn't going to risk it. "Prep the Pelican and alert the team. Get us as close to the planet as you can without the Templars finding out."

A chorus of "aye aye's" erupted on the bridge as the officers hurried to fulfill his order. The Chief, meanwhile, turned and headed back to the bridge.

His Spartans clashed with the Templar order before. They were essentially a non-government organization, with enormous wealth and millions of devout followers. As the Human-Covenant war raged on, they lost their popularity with the people and standing with the UNSC. But since they never actually helped to engage the Covenant, they still had all their ships and equipment.

While not quite strong enough to defeat the UNSC in open war, they were powerful enough to cause them no end of trouble.

But the Chief was a Spectre candidate. He had the backing of the entire Citadel Council behind him. If the Templar Order wanted to give him trouble, he'd treat them like any other enemy.

" _The UNSC isn't here yet,"_ said Cortana. " _Still planning to drop?"_

"We can't rule out the UNSC's presence yet," replied the Spartan. "We'll head to the coordinates and wait it out."

" _Got it."_

Taking the Infantry Fighting Vehicle was too much of a risk. He didn't want to reveal his position to the Templars yet. No, this would be a simple drop. Foehammer would take them in nice and quiet, without alerting every single Templar on-site.

The elevator doors opened. The brig appeared completely unguarded, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Cortana had access to every system of the ship, every piece of electronics and equipment. The prisoner wouldn't get anywhere without the AI's explicit permission.

Hell, if Cortana wanted to, she could depressurize the brig and kill her in an instant.

The Master Chief stepped towards the furthest holding cell.

She lay on her back in a makeshift hammock at the far end of the room. She glanced at the Spartan, before lazily turning her back to him.

"It's time," he barked. "Get down, we're moving."

She ignored him. Of course she did.

The Chief sighed and produced a pair of handcuffs. They were designed with Elites in mind, which meant that the Arachne wouldn't be breaking out anytime soon.

"We can do this the easy war, or the hard way," he said, opening the door to the cell.

" _Hold it,"_ said Cortana. She highlighted several tactically-placed strands of silk on the floor. They led all the way to the ceiling, where the Liminal prepared what looked like two large webs, ready to fall the moment someone entered the cell.

He had to admit, she was crafty.

Moving carefully, he stepped over the highlighted wires and crossed the room towards the prisoner.

She burst into movement when he reached for her hands, leaping from her makeshift bed in an instant and darting towards the exit.

The Chief matched her blinding speed. He reached out and grabbed a hold of one of her spider legs, putting her escape to a jarring halt.

With a surprised cry, the Arachne crashed to the floor.

But she didn't give up. She thrashed around, trying to pull free from his grip. It was like trying to hold on to a thrashing Brute. The Liminal was surprisingly strong for her light weight and the Chief thought she would rip her own leg from its socket if she kept that up.

Suddenly she turned around and threw a jab at his face. The Chief blocked it, allowing her chitinous claw to slam against his armored forearm.

"Ah!" She cried, shaking her hand in pain. "What are you made of?!"

The Chief grabbed her wrist and pinned it behind her back. Not an easy feat, considering her size. "Stop resisting. You called this on yourself."

She didn't put up at much as a fight this time, allowing the Spartan to cuff her hands to her back. "How did I call _this_ on myself?" She demanded.

"Attempted murder," the Chief dryly replied.

"We were just trying to take you hostage!"

"Attempted abduction then."

She growled with frustration but didn't attempt any further escapes. Cortana unlocked the elevator again and the Chief rode it down to the hangar bay.

His team was already waiting for him down there. Saren and Miia were already geared up, while Dracosa was still assembling her shotgun.

Kyuri meanwhile looked like she was drowning in her hardsuit. Cortana used the _Reach's_ fabricators to adjust a Harpy hardsuit for the Vampire's use, but the process wasn't completely success. Her armor covered her chest and legs, but due to the adjustments made to accommodate her wings, it wasn't rated for vacuum yet.

Her kinetic barriers should protect her against Templar gear, but the Chief knew that those fanatics often employed heat-based weapons. Kinetic barriers didn't do a damn against heat.

Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

"Saren, Lieutenant, you're on prisoner duty," ordered the Chief. "Kyuri, you will accompany them as Recon. Corporal, you and I will be taking point."

"Opposition?" Asked the Echidna.

"Templar Order," said the Chief. He noticed that the Arachne tensed up when he mentioned them.

"The Templars?" She growled, rounding on him. John wasn't the tallest Spartan out there, but he was still larger than most humans and Citadel races.

The Arachne easily towered over him. "Are you turning me in to _them_?" She all but yelled at him.

John faced down ravenous Brutes and enraged Hunters before, but he had to admit, an infuriated Arachne was still a grade above them when it came to intimidation.

"Of course not, you ridiculous woman," scoffed Saren. "They're the _opposition_."

"None of us have any love for the Templars," added Miia. "In fact, we hate them more than we hate the Black Fang."

Rachnera's anger turned to surprise. "Then why turn me in?" she said. "If the Templars are your enemy, I can help you."

"Declined," the Chief brusquely said. "Fall in line, or we'll will employ force."

"…force?" She blinked. "How do you mean?"

Saren activated his omni-tool and loaded a combat application. Sparks erupted from his Overload program

"Ah…" The Arachne's face fell. "That really won't be necessary…"

"Good to hear," said the Chief.

There were no more interruptions after that. The team boarded Foehammer's Pelican and before long, they were on their way to the surface.

The dropship plummeted through the atmosphere as fast as Foehammer could bring it down. It would be hours until the UNSC arrived at the meeting point, but the Master Chief wanted to be certain. After all, there had to be a reason that the Order was here of all places, during this particular meeting.

The Chief entertained the idea of an informant within the UNSC's structure. Such things happened before, with the Insurrection as well as the Black Fang. After all, history taught that wars were won and lost because of traitors.

He didn't have long to dwell on that thought however; Foehammer was almost at the drop site. According to the _Reach's_ long-range scanners, the power readings were normal for an uncolonized garden world, while the atmosphere was harmless.

It was time to get to work.

"Fan out," the Chief ordered his team the moment the Pelican's blood tray opened. "Corporal, with me. We need to secure this perimeter. Lieutenant, locate and secure the meeting point."

They followed his orders without complaining. Kyuri threw one last nervous look at him, before following Saren and Miia.

" _A bit early for a trial by fire, don't you think?"_ Said Cortana.

"There won't be any fire," replied the Chief, somewhat perturbed by her choice of words. He'd seen enough fire to last a lifetime. "The Templars have no reason to attack."

" _If you say so."_

Dracosa and the Chief walked for a while, cutting through a forest when the Chief's long-range motion tracker registered movement. Before soon, it got dark. It was almost evening by the time they reached the section in the forest where the motion tracker pointed out

That was when the Chief ran into a snag.

Someone built a mansion alongside the perimeter.

A large, wood mansion.

The planet that had been found on the outskirts of the Terminus Systems, only barely flagged for colonization rights, had a large, wooden mansion on it.

The Chief's mind boggled.

"We'll clear it out, make sure it is safe when the transaction takes place," he said. Perhaps the Templars sought refuge in it. He couldn't risk that.

Draco didn't say anything. She just gave him an intensely displeased glare.

To the side of the mansion was a small graveyard. Several tombstones stood side by side in the little patch of land.

The Chief looked up at the dark, broken windows of the upper floors. Suddenly, he saw a figure from the window of the second floor.

A small girl peered through the window at him.

"We've got contact," the Chief calmly said. "Small humanoid, second story window to the left."

The Dragon Girl seemed to make herself smaller, shuffling back a meter until she was hiding behind the Spartan´s back.

The Chief looked at her. "Our six is secure," he informed her.

"We should get back to the meeting zone," she quietly declared, before angrily adding, "W-we're wasting time here!"

"This planet isn't meant to be populated yet. We need to check this out," the Chief firmly replied. He noticed that Draco's glare was firm, but that her tail was trembling.

"Aaah…" she weakly groaned. Together, they walked into the house.

The door opened with a soft creak that made the Chief rethink his tactical decisions.

And the two assault rifles discarded in the corner only added to that uncertainty.

" _Not ghosts!"_ Cortana suddenly cried out.

"What?"

" _Of course it's not ghosts! Ghosts don't exist! They're not logical!"_

"Calm down. We're just investigating," replied the Chief.

The inside of the mansion looked less decrepit than the outside, though that didn't say much. The front door lead straight into a large hall, around ten by ten meters large. Opposite of them was a large, wooden door, flanked by two staircases that led to the first floor. Several paintings hung on the wall, depicting pale people with dark hair.

The records had to have been falsified in some manner. This place was obviously inhabited.

He spotted a flicker of movement behind them and spun on his heels, assault rifle at the ready.

It was a woman, but not a woman like he had ever seen before. She floated, for starters. Two air of white, disembodied hands surrounded her longswords escorting a Cruiser. Her raven-colored hair reached to her heels…which the Chief presumed she had, because the creature re a black dress that covered everything except her chest, which was completely exposed.

The Chief thought that odd. As far as he was aware, mansions with shattered windows were cold.

" _Oh,"_ Cortana sighed with relief. " _That's just a Ghost Girl. I thought it was…you know."_

The Chief took a wary step back when the woman floated closer, a lazy smile forming on her lips. "A ghost? What's the difference?"

If the notion of ghosts confused Cortana, why wouldn't this Liminal?

" _A Ghost Girl is just collection of life energy from a diseased sentient being given shape by magic, transformed in a Demi-Liminal. It's much different from something unscientific like a ghost!"_

The Chief opted to ignore that comment. He moved to gesture Draco back, but the normally-eager soldier had already taken several large steps backwards.

"Ah…" she moaned. "You are another human! Oh, human energy…it's been so long without…take off that magical armor and share with me, would you?"

The Spartan merely aimed his weapon at her. Would he even be able to harm her? She looked incorporeal… "Ma'am?" He tried. "This area has yet to be colonized. State your identity."

"Come on…let me take your life energy!"

She reached towards him with two of the floating hands. The Chief, not knowing what else to do, shot them both.

The bullets passed through them harmlessly, embedding themselves into the walls of the mansion.

Incorporeal like nature spirits. The Chief always hated having to engage such enemies.

Her hands brushed against the MJOLNIR codpiece, but were stopped at a centimeter from the surface of the armor as the shields repulsed her.

She scowled. "Ara? How is this possible? No armor can stop me!"

She tried again, leaning in close and pressing herself against his body. He seized that moment of temporary manifestation and retaliated, slamming the butt of his rifle against her body. The blow knocked her out of the air and she fell to the ground.

The blow wasn't meant to kill, but to stun and disorient. Still, the Ghost Girl had to have felt the impact, as she gave a loud cry of pain and shot a furious glare at the Spartan.

She turned into a strange, floating light, which quickly disappeared.

The Spartan sighed and glanced at his Dragon teammate, who shrugged.

"Cortana?" He asked as they pressed deeper into the structure, "How are there Liminals here? How is this possible?"

" _I don't know. This planet was flagged for future colonization, but since we are now a member of the Citadel Species, mankind must leap through quite some bureaucratic hoops. The chances of someone building this sort of structure here are very slim. Can you get me a sample from that wall?"_

As the Chief walked up the stairs to get a better view of the wall Cortana meant, he noticed a doll knocked over on the floor. It was an oddly realistic one, about the size of a child.

"Doesn't really match the house," pointed out Dracosa.

With an odd feeling setting in his stomach. The Chief approached the doll. She looked…vaguely like Cortana, actually. At least, the hair style did.

An AI explained to him, year ago, that all sentients secretly longed for partners who resembled their maternal or paternal figures. According to her, such features would be the first you noticed.

He hadn´t thought it very likely, but now…he was not so sure.

As he knelt down beside her, the doll suddenly moved. Her eyelids flickered open and she gazed at the Spartan with large, violet eyes.

Her purple eyebrows met and she crawled backwards, obviously ill at ease with the sight of the Spartan.

"W-what are you?" Cried the doll. "Get away!"

The Chief reached out with his left hand and seized the doll's wrist. The artificial limb was small and frail, even more so when caught in the unyielding grip of the MJOLNIR's gauntlet.

Crying out in surprise, the doll fruitlessly slapped his wrist with her free hand. "Let me go! I will be nice, please let me go!"

"Relax," said the Chief. "We're not going to hurt you."

She glanced at his visor, then at the Dragon walking up the stairs behind them. He waved her forwards, sending her deeper into the mansion.

Shooting him another displeased glare, Dracosa vanished down the hallway.

"Are you an angel?" Asked the doll, her voice trembling with fear. "Are you here to kill us?"

"No," replied the Chief, deciding to treat the living doll like a civilian. "We won't hurt you. Whose house is this?"

She looked at a point behind the Chief. " _She_ does."

John looked behind him, but didn't see anything. "Who do you mean-?"

Too late. For some reason, the doll went limp again, dropping all notion of life.

The Spartan sighed and decided against taking her with him. He would find out who lived in this place soon enough.

He moved deeper into the bowels of the mansion, clearing room by room until he finally reached the end of the hallway. Greeting him in the first room he entered was Dracosa, trembling in a corner. She clutched her shotgun in frozen terror, her gaze transfixed on the other end of the room.

"Corporal?" Said the Chief.

She didn't respond.

The Chief brought his rifle to his shoulder and slowly stepped into the room. He didn't spot anything out of the ordinary, though his motion tracker did. Several contacts were moving back and forth at a slow pace, at a range of twenty meters.

What was going on her?

"Corporal Victorias!" Snapped the Chief. The moment he called out for her, he heard a strange groan from outside the room.

Upon hearing the sound, Dracosa leapt to her feet and tried to find cover. Unfortunately, her tail caught on something and she slammed into the ground. Knocking over a desk and a bookcase, a loud crash sounded as their contents were dumped over the floor.

The Master Chief sighed and lowered his weapon. What had her spooked like that?

" _That sound…"_ Cortana said, her voice shivering with fear " _I-it can't be!"_

That was when the contact shambled into the room. Dracosa yelped with fear, but then she saw what it was. A look of relief crossed her features.

" _Oh, it's just a Zombie…"_ said Cortana, mirroring the Dragon's relief.

The Zombie didn´t look like the lively undead the UNSC employed as Shock Troopers. This one seemed decrepit and sluggish, her features frozen in a look of fear. She shambled towards Dracosa, who promptly punched her in the face and knocked her head off.

"Don't sneak on me like that…"The Chief heard her muttering under her breath.

So she was fine with Zombies then? What was it she and Cortana feared so much?

As the body of the Zombie slumped to the ground, the Spartan took a step towards the Corporal. He was about to tell her to get a grip on herself when the floor underneath them made a creaking noise.

He barely managed to jump to safety when the floor cracked, but Draco didn't get away in time and fell through the floor.

A few seconds later, a dull "thump!" signaled her landing.

The Chief shook his head. He was certain Dracosa would be alright; Dragons were renowned for their insane durability after all, and she was geared up as well.

" _Ah! Chief, more contacts!"_

No sooner did Cortana speak up or the Spartan heard footsteps approaching the entrance of the room again. Another groan like the one before rang out.

A whole mess of undead beings approached him. Three of them were female, while the other two were male, wearing the white-red armor of the Templar Order

" _Those Zombies! They're wearing the Templar battle dress!"_ Said Cortana.

"You don't say?" Replied the Chief, before opening fire on the apparent hostiles. Normal undead Liminals weren't bothered by body shots and could only be dispatched with trauma to the head. These creatures, however different from the Zombie Liminals, had that same weakness.

The Spartan gunned down all down and held his position, straining his ears for any signs of hostile activity.

Nothing. No moaning, no footsteps, no booming discharges of Shotgun fire.

Bright lights escaped from the fallen Zombies.

Distracted by strange phenomenon, the Master Chief nonetheless managed to notice the little girl rushing into the room.

She was about the size of Grunt, but a bit smaller. Her skin was a light shade of purple, identifying her as another non-human.

Her long, black ponytails whirled behind her as she came to a sudden stop. She paused to readjust the nurse hat on her head and fumbled with the handbag that hung over her right shoulder.

"Ah!" She cried. "My experiments!"

"Hold it," said the Chief, putting away his weapon so he wouldn't scare her. "Who are you?"

She ran away the moment she saw him, moving surprisingly fast with such tiny legs. Still, the Chief was faster. He gave chase, deciding that Dracosa would have to fend for herself for a while.

The girl leapt over the railing of the first floor and landed in the main hall with inhuman grace. When the Chief finally cornered her, she gestured at the large door in-between the two staircases, which flung open.

The Spartan carefully approached her, recalling what Mendez once told him regarding Liminals. Magic levelled the playing field, he said. Liminals capable of bending reality to their will had to be considered the most dangerous combatant on the battlefield regardless of their physical appearance.

"What's with you!" She said accusingly. "Why are you going crazy in my laboratory? And who made that armor by the way?" She added with a hint of curiosity.

"Master Chief Spartan One-One-Seven of the United Nations Space Command. You will stand down and answer my questions," ordered John, taking aim at her center of mass with his assault rifle.

" _Chief, I'm reading movement coming from that door. Be ready!"_

The girl´s eyes narrowed. Smiling cruelly, she said, "Or else?"

It was not often that the Master Chief found himself holding a child at gunpoint without said child appearing completely irrational. A sense of unease crept over him. "Or else I will be forced to detain you," he carefully said. The girl appeared unarmed, and his shields ought to keep him safe from whatever trick allowed her to kill those two Templar troops.

"Hmmm…no," said the girl. Something emerged from the large door behind her, something massive.

The Chief corrected himself. _Three_ Templars.

The Zombie was massive, easily ten feet tall. Most portions of tis body were protected by the remnants of the battle dress, which still clung to its grotesque shape despite the messed-up alterations the girl made to it.

"Who are you?" Asked the Chief, keeping his eyes on the monstrosity. "What did you do to these people?"

She shot him another cruel smile. "Heh…my name is Chrome. I'm a necromancer. This place was built as an execution ground, then a graveyard. The corpses are great for my experiments!"

 _Experiments?_ The Master Chief felt a stab of annoyance at that. "What are you doing here? Did you kill these people?"

"I said I'm a necromancer. I'm experimenting on the dead here. These guys came barging in with their weapons, so I drained their energy and killed them." She shrugged. "Nobody comes here anyway. Those that do, aren't welcome."

"You killed them? And now you…experiment on them?" The Chief felt his annoyance turn to anger. Most acts of violence or crimes didn't even faze him anymore, but desecrating the dead? He would not accept that. "Why?"

"Why? Isn't that obvious? I want to create something more powerful than normal monsters!" She replied, like it was the most normal thing in the world

The Master Chief increased the grip on his weapon. "Those zombies?"

Her dark eyebrows met. "My work, too. As I said, strangers aren't welcome here. I keep them out, as a favor."

He had heard enough. "I am shutting you down."

"Hmph. I still have a lot of things to test," she replied. "I don't know what you are, or whose authority you think you have, but I'll make a nuisance like you into a new experiment."

At that, the large zombie started shambling towards the Chief. Though it was definitely a reanimated Templar, it gave off much different feeling than the other ones. Liminals manipulating the dead wasn't a new thing to him, but he had never seen an undead like this before.

John leapt back as the creature swept at him with an oversized arm. One of its legs was thicker than the other, while its armored arm had grown out of proportions. Its head was still protected by the thick Templar helmet. Killing it with blunt force trauma might prove to be difficult.

The undead roared, then charged the Spartan with surprising speed. He was forced to perform a combat roll to the side to avoid getting bowled over. He didn't know what kind of tricks this necromancer employed, but he had learned the hard way to expect chemical and biological attacks from such self-proclaimed necromancers.

Missing its intended target, the creature whirled around, just in time to catch the Spartan hose its chest with 7,62mm bullets.

he gunfire stunned it long enough for the Chief to close in and unleash a series of crushing jabs, shattering the already-battered chest armor. Upon delivering one last palm-strike, shattering the zombie's ribs, he performed a backflip and kicked its helmet off. The vulnerable head exposed, he struck it a hammer blow with both fist, pulping it.

"Thank…you…" murmured the dying Templar, slumping to the ground.

The Chief sighed. He watched as a bright light escaped from the zombie's body, before disappearing. Then, he turned towards the little necromancer.

Terrified, she took a step away from him.

The Chief was about to order her to stand down when the floor started to creak underneath his feet, before buckling and falling away.

" _Remember Draco's little incident?"_ Cortana had time to remind him before the Spartan and the necromancer plunged into the basement below.

"Yeah," replied the Chief, climbing back to his feet. The place wasn't as much a basement as it was a catacomb. Dozens of coffins lined the walls of the giant underground space.

Chrome lay in the middle of the room, plucking splinters out of her black hair and sluggishly getting back to her feet.

Just as the Chief expected, falling more than four meters and landing flat on her back hadn't fazed the girl in the least. She was definitely not human. "Ouch…ah, my lab! You broke the floor of my lab!" She lamented.

"I'll break more than that if you don't stand down," growled the Chief. He rapidly approached the little necromancer, who immediately pulled out a vial and backed away.

"Don't touch me!" She bit at him. "Or…or I'll break this, and poison you!"

The Chief tapped the side of his helmet without breaking his stride.

Chrome grimaced, no doubt understanding what he meant. She discarded the vial and started chanting an incantation instead She didn't very far though, as Dracosa emerged behind her, grabbed her with both arms and slammed her to the ground, growling.

"I hate ghosts," growled the Dragon Girl.

" _Hah!"_ Said Cortana. " _Nice one!"_

"Ah!" Chrome cried out. "Who are you?"

Draco didn't answer. Instead, she twisted the girl's arms behind her back. Painfully, if Chrome's cries were anything to go by.

"Not too hard," said the Chief. "She's just a girl."

" _Just because a monster looks young, doesn't mean they really are,"_ said Cortana. " _For all we know, she could be a century old."_

"She's just an elder then," deadpanned the Chief. "Cuff her, Corporal. We're taking her with us."

"W-what?" Stammered Chrome. "W-where are you taking me? Who are you!"

"Spectre agent Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan One-One-Seven, of the United Nations Space Command," Cortana said through the MJOLNIR's speakers.

"…that," the Chief followed up.

"…are you a man _and_ a woman?' Chrome cried with audible dismay.

Cortana projected herself from the MJOLNIR's omni-tool. "Hi! No, he's not a man and a woman. He's a man, I'm the…well, Artificial Intelligence is more like it."

Chrome just stared at the holographic avatar. "Are you a water spirit?"

"Yes, yes I am," Cortana replied without missing a beat. "Where are you from?"

Chrome shrugged. "Natalia? The doorway connects to the rest of the area. Isn't that where you came from?"

The Spartan and the AI exchanged a look.

"Do you know the word "UNSC"?" asked Cortana.

Chrome shook her head.

"Covenant?"

Chrome shook her head.

"Forerunners?"

Chrome shook her head.

"Yeah…let's just say we're from a place you've likely never heard of before," Cortana then said. "You best come with us, we'll explain as much as we can."

With the strange Liminal in tow, they started heading to the mansion's gate. As the Chief neared the gate, however, he spotted a strange woman. She stood at the far end of the gate, staring at them as they came within view. She had long, red hair and wore a lab-coat with several vials and syringes attached to it. The way she rested her hands in her pockets, eyeing the Spartan and the two Liminals as they approached, made it clear that she wasn't in any way surprised to see them.

"There you are," she said, oblivious to the fact that the MJOLNIR could pick up every sound in a radius of at least thirty meters.

The Master Chief, hoping that she was with the UNSC, approached her. The moment she saw him head towards her, the woman took her leave, much to his confusion.

"Who was that?" He asked.

"… _I don't know,"_ Cortana said after a moment's silence. " _At any rate, chasing after her won't do us much good. Let's regroup for now."_

The Chief wasn't sure. Cortana was a bit too fast to dismiss that woman. "I'm not sure-"

He stopped when he heard the distant clatter of automatic weapons fire.

"What's that?" Chrome asked, uncertain.

The Chief sighed and checked the magazine of his assault rifle. "Trouble."

~0~

* * *

The rattle of assault rifle fire echoed through the forest. Miia cursed and ducked just in time to avoid getting her head blown off by a trigger-happy Templar clad in heavy armor. His LMG roared as he sent another burst of hyper-velocity rounds her way.

Miia waited for a lull in the gunfire, then repositioned to a different tree. She whirled around the thick trunk and returned fire, forcing the Templar back into cover.

The bastards blindsighted them! Kyuri called out one group of them patrolling the area, but then two other groups figured out where they were hiding and attacked them, just like that!

The LMG gunner repositioned, but Saren appeared on the fringe of the treeline, firing a controlled burst of mass accelerator rounds at the Templar's head. With his kinetic barriers already weakened by Miia's fire, the bullets tore through his helmet and shredded his brain.

But there were more to take his position. One of them whirled around cover and blasted the clearing with a flamethrower, incinerating the vegetation and playing havoc with Miia's night and pit vision.

Kyuri screamed as the tree she hid in was set alight. She leapt out of the branches and spread her thin, leathery wings.

The Templars spotted her, but quickly lost the Vampire in the darkness and chaos.

"Lieutenant Lucifinae to Sierra One-One-Seven!" Miia yelled in her mic. Bullets tore through the tree-trunk and impacted on her tail, draining her kinetic barriers even more. "We need immediate support!"

Saren struck again, puncturing the fuel tank of one of the flamethrower-carrying Templars. The man flailed around screaming before the tank detonated, consuming him in blast of rolling fire.

More took the Templar's place. They had a small army in position, with more than enough firepower to kill them. Half of them filled the forest with suppressive fire, while the rest attempted to outflank and subsequently engage them in close-quarters combat.

The only reason they lasted this long was because the enemy couldn't see them as easily in this dense forest. If they had night-vision goggles, their nonstop flamethrower-usage would screw that up, wouldn't it?

" _Sierra One-One-Seven on approach. Be advised, friendlies coming up on your left."_

"Friendlies on our left, copy that!" Miia shouted back. She felt a portion of her fear give way for elation, since she seriously doubted that the Templars could pose a threat to the Master freaking Chief himself, but she had to stay focused. There were enough to pose a threat even to a Spartan.

"Cut me loose!" Shouted Rachnera, keeping her head down in the frantic firefight.

"No!"

Saren Overloaded the barriers of one of the more heavily-armored Templars. Someone else proceeded to blow his head apart. Miia guessed that it was the Chief. She guessed that it was a good thing she didn't know where the turian Spectre was; if she didn't have eyes on him, neither did the enemy.

"Where can I go? There's no one on this planet!"

"I won't let you loose!" Shot back Miia.

The Master Chief closed in on the Templar hostiles now, engaging them in close quarters combat. He deflected a sword aimed at his neck, brained one his foes with a single strike and gunned down another two.

But the Templars covered each other well. They directed their field of fire towards the Spartan. Peppering him with mass accelerator fire as well as heavier UNSC ordnance.

The Chief was forced to disengage, his shields flaring under the hail of enemy fire. An explosion rippled through the forest, pelting them with shrapnel.

"I can't go anywhere!" Persevered Rachnera. "I can help you fight, just give me a gun!"

Miia remained silent. She watched the Master Chief dash through a burst of highly flammable semi-liquid fuel, which stuck to his suit and continued burning.

The flamethrower-wielding soldier had been about to hose Draco's cover, and dragon scales wouldn't protect against that kind of heat.

"Do you want your friends to die? Let me help you! Let me help _him!"_

Miia gritted her teeth and shot the legs of a charging Templar. He went down, but her gun clicked empty. She had to spend several agonizing seconds to reload.

She saw the Master Chief catch a burst of fire in his side. No shields to protect him.

Miia grabbed Rachnera by her wrists and pulled her close. "If you try to screw us over," she hissed, "I will shoot you myself!"

"Yeah yeah," replied the Arachne, no fazed at all. "Hurry up!"

~0~

* * *

The Master Chief whirled around and drilled a hole through the head of Knight Sergeant with a squad automatic weapon. He allowed the zealous SOB's to focus their fire on him. Cortana identified their weapons and munitions, determined that only those with armor-piercing ammunition could superficially pose a threat to him and suggested he eliminate them first.

Still, the shrill alarm that shrieked through his helmet was distracting. It brought back memories of Halo and the Ark, which he couldn't use at that moment.

He heard rather than felt a burst of fire hit him in his side. He turned to face the hostile and returned fire. Five of his bullets blew out his kinetic barriers and a sixth snapped his head to the side, sending brain matter spraying from his opposite temple.

Deciding that they couldn't defeat a Spartan in a firefight, the remaining Templars resorted to engaging him in close quarters. One of them, clad in a thick battlesuit that must have cost hundreds of thousands of credits, charged at him with a sword.

The Chief brought his gun up to block it, intent on deflecting the blow and follow up with a takedown. But the sword's glowing edge sliced through the sturdy rifle like it wasn't even there. The two halves of the wrecked MA5 clattered to the deck.

 _I just got that_ , the Chief thought with frustration, even as the blade narrowly missed his helmet. A blow from that weapon aimed at his visor might be able to kill him. He couldn't allow that.

Spartans were trained to fight and kill opponents wielding a wide variety of weapons. Swords were no exception. The Chief sidestepped slice after slice, then moved in to grab his opponent by his wrists –

The large sword was pulled from the Templar's hands as if by an invisible force. The Master Chief wasn't one to question opportunities when they arose, and swiftly dispatched the Templar by shattering his helmet against his armored knee.

"Sound off!" He called, noticing that the remaining Templars were equally disarmed.

" _Wait one,"_ replied Saren. One application of Overload later, the shields of the last two Templars sparked and died. A second later, both zealots slumped to the ground, blood spurting from tiny holes in their heads.

" _I think I'm alright,"_ Kyuri's voice came over the radio.

Dracosa stayed quiet, but the Chief didn't think that was a reason for concern. Miia's silence, however, definitely was.

"Wow, you really can hold your own in a fight!"

John glanced up at one of the trees. He supposed that a normal person would not have been able to discern the Arachne from the branches and leaves. She held a handful of chords between her chitinous fingers, which were attached to a small collection of assault rifles, shotguns and melee weapons, including a sword.

"Who cut you loose?" He asked.

"In our defense, we were getting shot at, and I wanted to help," replied Rachnera.

The Chief was about to order her down when Kyuri's panicked voice came through the radio again. " _Miia's hit! There's blood everywhere!"_

"I'm on my way," said the Spartan. He double-timed it to the Lieutenant's position, who lay slumped against a tree, her hands clutching her side. Dark blood poured from between her fingers.

The Echidna spotted him. A hurt look crossed her eyes and she averted her gaze. "I'm sorry sir," she said. "I think I…overestimated my shields…"

The Chief knelt beside her, checking the damage. She was losing blood fast; Med-Gel could keep her alive until extraction and bio-foam would plug the wounds, but…it looked like there was heavy internal damage as well.

"Saren, Corporal, secure the perimeter and make sure the hostiles are neutralized," he ordered. He placed his hand behind Miia's head to support her neck. "Lieutenant, stay with me. You'll be fine."

Kyuri stood a few feet away, holding the tips of her wings against her mouth. The Chief wasn't sure she was fighting back her horror, or her hunger. Perhaps a bit of both.

Cortana sent an immediate call for extraction, but Foehammer was minutes away. There was not enough time, he needed to seal those wounds before Miia bled out.

"What did they hit us with?" The Chief asked.

"… _Grey Talon rounds. Armor-piercing hollow-point munition used to kill Brutes and Hunters. They're illegal outside the Covenant theatre because…"_

Cortana let her voice fade into tactful silence.

"It's alright sir," Miia said, flashing him a little smile. Though she was slowly starting to look pale, she still looked flustered. "We're built to last."

She reached for his gauntlet with a bloodied hand. The gesture surprised John; he knew wounded or dying soldiers clung to their comrades for comfort, but…such affection was never shown to him. His brothers and sisters never allowed themselves that.

"You'll be fine," he repeated. "We've got Biofoam and- "

That was when Chrome, who had been hiding behind a tree during the firefight, shoved her way past him. She took one look at Miia, rolled her eyes and pulled several strange instruments out of her bag.

Including a bone saw.

"Seriously, a flesh wound?" She said. "Is that what you guys are getting all emotional about? Hah! I could fix this in my sleep! Now where did I leave my sedative…"

" _Wait!"_ Said Cortana when John reached out to stop the necromancer. " _Do you have any better ideas?"_

"If you hurt her…" started the Spartan.

Chrome reached behind her and swatted at his helmet with one of her instruments. "Don't distract the surgeon when she's surgeoning!"

"Wait, shouldn't you use anesthesia?" Yelped Miia, squirming in discomfort at the sight of what had to be a makeshift scalpel.

"Oh hush," replied Chrome. "Just nicking the nerves here…here and here…" She performed several surface cuts on Miia's stomach before the Liminal soldier could protest. "There. Should deaden sensation to the entire area."

Miia muttered something in response.

"Oh, don't be a baby."

The Master Chief kept a watchful eye on her as she ran the quickest battlefield surgery he ever saw. She gave Miia some sort of coagulant or tissue-regeneration promotor that stopped the bleeding in seconds, then started repairing the internal damage.

Miia, meanwhile, took a cue from Kyuri and covered her face with her hands, too horrified at what was happening to keep looking.

"Aaah…" She weakly moaned. "This is so weird…"

Content that Chrome wouldn't be sabotaging his unit, the Master Chief turned to Saren, who emerged from the treeline after the firefight ended.

John was impressed by the turian Spectre; not even he managed to discover where Saren hid himself during the fight. He dispatched those Templars without ever being spotted, like a Spartan would. Like _he_ would, had he still had his own team.

He hated that thought.

"How did this happen?" He demanded of the turian. "Did you provoke them?"

Saren scoffed. "Of course not. Those morons opened fire the moment they spotted us. Did you per chance discover anything that might have caused this, hmm?"

"I don't like your tone," replied the Chief.

Saren looked at him. For some reason, John felt like the alien could see _through_ his visor. "Well, did you?"

"…the _Reach_ picked up a large energy reading, moments after we cleared an old mansion," he reluctantly replied, "Cortana thinks it was Forerunner tech."

"What makes you think that?"

The Chief looked back at Chrome, currently cleaning her equipment. "We'll debrief the team back on the _Reach_. We need a new plan before continuing the op."

Saren crossed his arms. "I am certain you have a lot to plan, yes. I will be securing the perimeter."

And with that, the turian took off, leaving the Master Chief to wonder why he ever allowed an alien on his team.

" _You know, he reminds me of you,"_ said Cortana. " _Same approach in combat, same approach in social conversations."_

"We're nothing alike," growled John.

" _Ooh…that's a lie. And a bad one at that. You saw the resemblance too?"_

The Chief slapped the side of his helmet, where his implants were.

" _Fine, shutting up. You seem to have a different problem on your hands anyway."_

The Spartan wondered what problem she meant this time, then caught a flicker of motion to his right. The Arachne lowered herself next to him, hanging by a thread from the tree. She watched him for a few moments, her black arms crossed over her voluminous chest.

"So," she said, dropping down next to him. "Now you're on the Templar's shit list as well."

Was he? He supposed their leaders didn't care _why_ one of their cathars had been eliminated. Still, after the Covenant and the Flood, he didn't feel all that intimidated. "I assume that's bad?"

"You don't sound worried. Think your UNSC will protect you?"

"Don't need them to," he replied.

"Such bravado," she mockingly said. Her expression remained hard for a few moments, but then she relented with a sigh. "I hate you humans…but I hate the Templars even more. I don't have anywhere to stay, not really, so…"

"So?" Said the Chief.

She raised an eyebrow. "That armor's not the only thick part about you, is it? I'm offering to go along with you. Help you do…whatever it is you want to do."

"Help me? Our first meeting you wanted to kill me," the Spartan dryly replied.

She rolled her eyes. "Not _kill_ you, take you hostage. The Black Fang only wants _one_ thing: equality for all Liminals. If abducting the greatest human hero would get us that attention…"

Cortana chose that moment to butt into the conversation, projecting herself from the Chief's right gauntlet. "It would have gotten you attention alright. The remaining Spartans would have raised hell getting the Master Chief back. At the very least, hundred of your core members would have died."

Rachnera sighed. "Yeah, I realize that now, but – wait, did you say remaining Spartans? What happened to the others?"

"That is not a conversation we're having," interrupted John, bristling at the mention of his brothers and sisters. "And neither is this. Your motivations are irrelevant; your actions put you at odds with the UNSC."

"Jeez, lighten up, you machine," replied the Arachne. "I wasn't telling you that to get pity or anything, I just wanted you to understand. What I want, is the best for my people. And," she added, "I did help you out, remember?"

"And so do we," replied Cortana. "But we're currently occupied with trying to save the galaxy - _again_ \- and we don't care if its humans or Liminals we're saving. Remember the Arbiter, Chief? Desperate times call for desperate measures. I say we hire her."

The Chief glared at Cortana. "That is not your decision to make."

Cortana glared right back at him. "Oh? Since when do you make the decisions? Since Halo? The fact of the matter is – "

"Halo?" Muttered Rachnera.

" – you're not as much as Spartan as a Spectre now. Saren was right; you need to learn to grow more flexible. Without me, we would have both died on Halo. You need allies, Chief, now more than ever."

Cortana had him outmaneuvered. This conversation was way too public for his liking. He couldn't retort without revealing classified information or revealing more of himself than he liked, and she knew it.

But that didn't mean he liked it. Cortana effectively undermined his authority at this point. She _never_ did that.

On one hand, Rachnera was capable. Her species was among the most dangerous extraspecies out there.

On the other hand…well, if she wasn't a terrorist, at the very least she affiliated with them.

But the fact of the matter was, he needed a team to take Desolas down. Without his Spartans…

John sighed. Sometimes, he hated this. "Few things you need to know. You answer according to the chain of command. First me, the Lieutenant second."

She shrugged. "Sure."

"You do what I tell you, when I tell you. And whatever happens, the mission comes first. If you do anything to jeopardize that deliberately, I will kill you."

"Apart from the threat to my life, sure, seems fair," replied Rachnera, seemingly unfazed by his words. "So when are we leaving? Your business here is concluded, isn't it?"

The Master Chief held her gaze for a few moments, then gave Foehammer her directions. He had other matters to worry about than Cortana's insubordination and Rachnera's attitude.

~0~

* * *

 **Aboard UNSC** _ **Normandy**_

Urdnot Wrex did not get spooked very often. At his age, he had seen everything the galaxy had to offer. Flesh-eating bugs? He killed them. Mad scientists? He killed them. Drugs that temporarily turned ordinary chumps into crazed killing machines? Headbutted them, then killed them.

But even _he_ had to admit that he did not feel right with the things that came from the Forerunner Cluster. After the mission to recruit T'Soni, he did some digging on the shit that went down on Therum. Vampires, viruses, monsters…

After that, he did more digging. Mythology, religion, folklore…humans had a crapload of that.

After spending at least three hours of reading, one hour of drinking and another three hours of reading, Wrex reached two conclusions.

One: almost every piece of folklore and mythology regarding creatures other than humans was true.

Two: the turians and salarians sterilized the _wrong_ species.

Wrex was not big on the stupidity and hopelessness of his species, but at least the krogan still adhered the laws of physics. At least, as far as he was aware. They didn't dabble on magic and souls and afterlives or whatever occult shit the things from human space did.

If the extranet and the human sources was to be believed, he would be up against shapeshifting abominations, monsters that could hypnotize you with their eyes, creatures that were made from viscous liquid and even things that controlled the damn elements, as well as being immune to weapons. And word was, they all had the sex drive of a retired Warlord.

Wrex was not one to shy away from challenges, but had he known all of this…

…well, it probably wouldn't have changed a thing, but at least he would've been prepared!

The krogan grunted and shut down his omni-tool again. His eyes were getting tired and he had to move. Sitting too long in one place made him restless.

Damn shooting range still wasn't up yet. The quarian was still working on it. Smoothing out the kinks, she said.

Just as the krogan was about the call the elevator, the doors suddenly opened.

"Wrex," said the Captain – _Commander_. Damn human ranking system.

"Shepard."

"I have been meaning to talk to you. Do you have the time?"

For a moment, Wrex felt inclined to just do what he always did: bluntly decline and walk away. But on second thought, he really didn't have much else to do. There was that, and the fact that it was common knowledge to stay on good terms with Devils.

"Sure," replied the krogan. "What do you need?"

Shepard gestured with her head to the lockers, Wrex's spot when he wasn't on the roster. "What's your story, Wrex?"

The Urdnot sighed. _This_ question again. "There is no story."

The Commander cocked an eyebrow. "A mercenary fighting for free? You are an old warrior, Wrex. I doubt wanting to be in the thick of the fight is all there is to you."

Wrex considered his answer for a few moments. "You're an old warrior too. Not as old as me, but who is? We're krogan. We want to go out and fight. At this point, that's all that defines us…"

"You do not sound very positive about your people," pointed out the Commander.

Wrex snorted. At least she was perceptive. "I gave up on my people long ago. The genophage infected us, but it's not what's killing us." He knocked on his locker and took his shotgun out again. Might as well tinker around with that some more.

"I read about the genophage. It seems like a horrible fate to me."

Horrible was one way to describe it. "Don't go telling any krogan that. We hate pity."

"I would not call it pity."

Ejecting the ammo block of his weapon, Wrex said, "No?"

She shook her head. "Call it sympathy. Empathy. Every species fears extinction, but only those who gazed into its eyes can truly understand the horror. Humanity understands your plight."

Wrex glared at the Devil. He heard about the Human-Covenant war. Deadliest war in Council history, beating out even the Krogan Rebellions and the Rachni Wars. He didn't believe that it was the same as what the turians did to _his_ species, but…if there were people who could relate, it was humanity.

"Maybe humanity sympathizes, but it doesn't understand. The krogan think they do. That's why they've given up. Why fight for a future, if there is no future?"

"That seems like the viewpoint of someone defeated," pointed out Shepard. "If the krogan want to fight, why not fight the genophage? Or find allies who can help you fight?"

Someone defeated…that comment stung, more than Wrex wanted to admit. "Like the salarians? The turians? Not likely. My people ran out of friends, centuries ago. Why even bother?"

"Because one day, you might find a friend who would be willing to help?" Suggested Shepard. "Someone with the knowledge and will to change the future?"

"Like who?" Growled Wrex, not liking where this was going.

The Devil shrugged. "That's the question, isn't it? The will of one individual can change the world. Mankind discovered that centuries ago. Why not the krogan? Anyway, I should be going now. Someone raided an Asari Republics gene bank and the trail leads into the Terminus. I thank you for the talk, Wrex."

"Shepard," nodded Wrex, too distracted by what he just heard to process her parting words. The will of just one guy could change the world? If that were true, why wasn't that guy already _there_ on Tuchanka? He sure as hell won't be born anytime soon, so he's gotta be around somewhere already.

He grunted and turned his attention to something that might lift his spirits.

~0~

* * *

Roughly fifteen minutes after they left planetside, Cortana handed in the mission report to Smith. She excluded the presence of Forerunner ruins on the planet, as well as any mention of Chrome and the strange mansion. Those redacted elements were included in a different report, sent to Doctor Catherine Halsey.

In the meantime, the Master Chief called in a team meeting in the Officer's Club, or the Spectre's Bar as Cortana so lovingly dubbed it.

Miia and Kyuri were already there. The Vampire was listening to one of Miia's war-stories. The Battle of Elysium, if he heard correctly.

The Echidna turned to the Chief upon his entrance and saluted. "Master Chief, sir!"

Next to her, Kyuri clumsily tried to replicate the salute. He'd have to teach her how to do a proper one in the future. Still, it was the thought that counted.

"At ease," said the Spartan, moving to the back of the bar to fetch a bottle of water.

"Right. Ehm, as I was saying, the batarians tried to roll up with a Mako next! And they thought they could get me with that, but I was like, I don't think so! So I shot them as they tried to leave the vehicle. That was when the next army showed up…"

The Chief found whiskey, rum, vodka, something called Pro-Russian Vodka and a bottle of faintly glowing liquid labelled Ryncol, but no water.

"But you killed all of them?" Asked Kyuri.

"Yup!" Miia proudly replied.

"Don't you feel guilty?"

That question threw Miia for a loop. "I…what?"

Kyuri fumbled with her hair, avoiding eye-contact with the Lieutenant as she continued, "Whatever they did, they're still people, right? Maybe they had families, or children."

"If they had families or children, they shouldn't have been enslaving other people," growled Miia. There was anger in her voice, a viciousness the Chief hadn't noticed with her before. "They deserved what they got."

"All of them?" Kyuri quietly asked.

"You weren't there when they attacked, Kyuri. They're monsters, all of them. It's the job of heroes like us to slay the monsters."

The Chief wasn't sure about Miia's choice of words. He didn't think of himself like a hero. He was just a soldier doing his job. But monsters? He wasn't sure.

If the Vampire's expression was anything to go by, she liked that word even less than he did. She lowered her head, and quietly said, "I suppose so…"

Miia didn't get a chance to reply, as the rest of the team arrived. Chrome and Rachnera were first, closely followed by Draco and Saren.

The turian Spectre took one look at the array of bottles the Chief put on the counter of the bar in his quest for a bottle of water and reached all the wrong conclusions. "Ryncol, Spartan? Truly? The best soldier humanity has to offer, craving for radioactive krogan liquor?"

John could have shot the turian. "I really don't like your tone."

"I see even elite soldiers have testosterone problems," remarked the Arachne. "Anyway, time for a reintroduction. I'm Rachnera Arachnera." She waved at the crew, then smiled. "Nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you too," Kyuri timidly replied. The Chief made a mental note to talk to her about this latest engagement.

"Introductions aside, we have a set of rules for this ship," hissed Miia, obviously not at ease with Rachnera's presence. "We run this ship military style! You and the creepy succubus report to the Master Chief first, me second! And don't-"

"Yeah yeah, whatever," Rachnera off-handedly replied. "So, _Chief_ , why don't you tell me what this mission of yours is all about?"

The Spartan didn't like how she suddenly edged closer to him. "Right. Chrome, sit down."

"Sit down? I don't want to sit down yet; this place is enormous!" Declared the little necromancer. "You have a boat made from _steel_ and it floats between the stars! How did you do that? Chemical explosions? Thaumaturgy?"

"You're excited, I get that," the Chief replied, trying to remain patient. "But you are also our new medic. Sit down."

Reluctantly, Chrome sat down in her chair. Her feet dangled above the ground. Once again, the Chief found himself wondering how old she really was. His Spartans had rarely ever encountered Succubi before. They were supposed to be a completely different class of threat, known for toppling empires and starting or ending wars on a whim, purely for amusement value.

Then again, he supposed that most legends regarding his Spartans weren't true either

"And cue the blue woman…" Saren quietly said.

Cortana's avatar appeared on the conference table, as well as a what appeared to be a star chart of the Epsilon Eridanus system.

"This might be even more challenging than bringing Kyuri up to speed, but I'll give it a shot," said Cortana. "Long story short, humanity and the various Monster species colonized a whole lot of worlds in the past few centuries. The world you came from, Chrome, is _not_ one we colonized, strangely enough."

"Huh," said Chrome. "I always knew there were other worlds!"

"Don't get too smug young lady. You see, we're not alone in the universe. Roughly twenty years ago, mankind encountered a collective of alien species that wasted no time in declaring war on us."

"Woah!" Declared Chrome when Cortana showed an image of Reach. "Is that a _planet_? Who is crazy enough to destroy an entire planet! We didn't even map out ours!"

"The Covenant, as we called our enemy, didn't stop there," continued Cortana. "Over the course of the war, mankind managed to claim a few handful of victories, but the Covenant outperformed us on most fronts. We lost world after world, often complete with their entire population."

Disturbingly enough, Chrome hid her reaction behind a mask of curiosity and asked, "Who won that war?"

"Nobody," said John. "We survived only because the Covenant fragmented."

"We weren't alone though," said Cortana, replacing Reach's image with that of the Citadel. "Just in case you're wondering how small the universe can be, we encountered _another_ collection of alien species roughly a year after we encountered the Covenant."

Chrome frowned. "Did they declare war as well?"

"Luckily for us, they did not. Diplomats from both sides managed to avid sparking a war. These species, whom you will probably have to learn by name to avoid making any oopsies, actually helped us in the war. Unfortunately, mere months after the Covenant fragmented and the war ended, another problem emerged."

The image of the Citadel turned to that of a turian. Cortana quickly briefed Chrome on the existence of the Spectres, then the assault on Eden Prime.

As she did that, the Master Chief stared at the image of Desolas Arterius, wondering why he couldn't get the image of Reach out of his mind. It had been _months_ since his home burned, why couldn't he get it out of his head?"

" – Chief?" Cortana suddenly said.

The Spartan snapped out of his thoughts and looked at her. "Yes?"

"I kind of called you for the third time there. Chrome had a question."

The Spartan glanced at the little necromancer.

"Yep. A handful, in fact. In my world, relations between Monsters and humans are bad. I want to know you are telling the truth."

"About what?" Asked the Chief.

"This," Chrome replied, spreading her arms. "Everything. I see the "alien", I see the Monster Girls, but I have no reason to believe you about any war, or any grand civilization."

"You want proof about the war," the Chief repeated, dumbfounded by the very thought of having to proof the Human-Covenant war to someone.

"You did ruin my laboratory and take me from my home world," Chrome pointed out.

"The little lady has a point there," said Miia. "History is written by the victors."

"You're just saying that because she stitched you back together," Draco said, speaking up for the first time. "Because you got shot in the gut by a _Templar_."

Miia's ears turned red with shame. "At least I didn't mess up the very first mission on the Master Chief's team," she hissed. " _I_ could get a medal. _You_ could have gotten a court-martial!"

Draco fell silent. A low grow escaped from her throat, after which she flung herself over the oak table.

Kyuri cried out when the two reptiles collided together and scrambled to safety, while Chrome took cover underneath the table.

The Master Chief could only stare in abject horror as his two teammates proceeded to maul each other like Brutes.

Rachnera looked at him. "They're yoursubordinates, you know."

"Suck it up," replied the Chief. "They're _your_ teammates now. Break them up."

"What?" Rachnera looked at him with shock. "Are you serious?"

"I'm always serious."

The Arachne shook her head. "You'll catch more flies with honey than metal, you know."

She then performed a few gestures with her wrists, doing… _something_ to the two insubordinate girls. It took the two Liminals a few moments to notice what happened, but the Spartan saw what the Arachne did. Strands of silk wrapped around their limbs and tails, tightly binding them and making movement nearly impossible.

The two soldiers cried out in surprise when they noticed their sudden inability to continue mauling each other.

"You know, it's been a really long time since I've had the chance to do this," Rachnera laughed, pulling the cords taut and easily pulling the two reptiles off each other. The result looked rather…suggestive.

"Any other orders?" She asked with a smirk. "I could use the practice. And I've _never_ tied up someone from _your_ species before," she playfully – or maybe not so playfully – told Kyuri, who visibly blushed.

The Master Chief had to admit, he liked the sight of Miia and Draco struggling against their silk bindings. It sure beat the hell out of having to pull them away from each other himself. For now, he needed a moment to reflect on what just happened. "That's all. Make sure to introduce yourself to the crew later. You're _all_ dismissed."

~0~

* * *

 **Citadel Space**

 **Citadel Station**

 **Citadel Embassies**

 **Citadel**

Councilor Sparatus was having one of his better days, enjoying a delightful brewed drink prepared from roasted coffee beans, lovingly cultivated from dextro-amino based _Coffea_ plants.

Humanity was ingenious with its efforts in genetic manipulation. Managing to prepare dextro-amino food from what was originally levo-amino lifeforms? Simply marvelous.

It was one of those rare days where could simply sit back and enjoy the artificial light of the Presidium together with his colleagues. Tevos sat back in a comfy chair, reading a holographic novel from one of her favorite authors, while Valern was…

In truth, Sparatus had no idea what the salarian was doing. Reading up on the latest scientific researches? Posting on online fora to demolish conspiracy theories? That was one of his favorite activities after all. A couple of days ago, Sparatus walked in on him posting a six-paragraph comment to a guy claiming that Slipspace was filled with horrors and monstrosities.

"Flat Citadel theorists…" scowled the salarian Councilor. "Bah…only humans can devise such tremendous errors…"

Sparatus heard Tevos chuckle and his mandibles parted in a smile. Yes, all was well.

Then, chaos.

Space seemed to warp and boil outside of the thick, reinforced windows that kept the inhabitants of the Presidium safe from the vacuum of space. Tiny pinprick of light gathered at several spots as the space started shimmering.

Multiple alarms activated throughout the interior; imminent hull breach, collision alarms, incoming hostile vessels, _everything_ All three Councilors received a Code-Mauve alert.

Sparatus felt a chill run down his spine; Code-Mauve was only sent in the direst of circumstances, when the Councilors were separated from friendly forces and in extreme danger.

A dozen guards barged inside from a dozen different entrances, but it was too late. Something _massive_ appeared in the middle of the space between the Citadel's arms. It had three bulbous sections, while its swollen center contained what looked like a hundred launch bays, protected behind an invisible shield that could absorb the full might of the mightiest weapons in the Hierarchy's fleet ten times over.

A Covenant Supercarrier.

The guards shouted for Sparatus to move, but the turian Councilor found himself nailed to the ground. He could only stare at the titanic vessel. It was _magnificent_. It was almost thirty Citadel kilometers long, putting it at three-quarters the size of the station itself. The sleek, purple metal had a haunting beauty, bolstered by the fact that nobody had ever won a battle with one of these vessels in play.

No, running was not an option. This ship could scorch the Citadel many times over, glass it over and blast it to bits. Everybody would die.

Positioned as the Supercarrier was, the Citadel Defense fleet couldn't risk firing mass accelerators at it. Their own mightiest warship, the _Destiny Ascension,_ was helpless.

The Supercarrier didn't even bother to defend itself against the Javelin missiles and other less-destructive weapons the Defense Fleet fired at it. What incredible contempt its Shipmaster must have for the Citadel Species, to deem them unworthy to even swat their weapons out of the air…

The rooms holographic display flared as the Supercarrier hailed them. A Sangheili Supreme Commander materialized before them, adorned in shimmering, golden armor and helmet. A velvet cape hung from its shoulders, reaching all the way to the ground.

The Supreme Commander spoke. The three Councilors, as well as their guards, heard the translation from their chip a second later.

" _Leaders of the false Pact,_ " growled the Sangheili. " _Heed my warning, for I shall only speak it once. You stand before the exalted Supreme Commander 'Vadam. Relinquish your pathetic attack on my vessel, lest I lose my patience and burn this station along with your toy ships."_

Valern acted a mere heartbeat after hearing the Supreme Commander's strangely feminine voice. He ordered the Defense Fleet to stand down.

A second later, Sparatus understood why. What Covenant leader would bother to contact their enemies? All they ever did was kill. That the inhabitants of the Citadel had not yet been vaporized was only due to the Sangheili's grace, which seemed perilously close to running out.

"Sparatus, say something," ordered Tevos with a hushed voice.

"Why me?" Hissed Sparatus.

"Because the Supreme Commander is a _she_ and _you_ are the resident expert on alien females!"

Sparatus knew it. This was Tevos' payback for all those years of his professional interest in the Liminal Species. His testament would read "death by womenfolk" and his next of kin would shake their heads at his foolishness.

"W-Welcome to the Citadel," he sputtered. "My name is S-Sparatus. How are you doing? C-could I buy y-you a drink?"

"Resident expert my cloaca," sighed Valern. "Supreme Commander Vadam. Our Fleet is standing down. However, you are invading our territory. This Council would like to avoid a political incident. What is it you seek?"

" _The human who wears the special armor,"_ growled the Sangheili. " _Your Pact is supplying a demon with "missions". You will tell me where I can find him."_

Valern and Tevos glanced at Sparatus. "Demon?" Asked the asari.

"The Chief," replied Sparatus. "She is looking for the Master Chief."

A gasp escaped Tevos' lips. "By the Goddess, what could she possibly want from him?"

"Are you referring to the Spartan, Master Chief One-One-Seven?" Valern asked the

The Supreme Commander huffed. " _You are testing the limits of my patience. Tell me where I can find the demon, or I will tear the information from the floating debris."_

How did the human saying go again? Standing between a wall and a hard place? They didn't have much of a choice here. Either give the Sangheili a…rough estimate of where the Spartan was, or become free-floating particles.

Sparatus didn't like being free-floating particles, but neither did he like selling out people.

"The war between humanity and the Covenant is over," said Sparatus, desperate to win at least a little time. "Why would you need the Master Chief? Are your intentions pure?"

The Sangheili just stared at him, as did Valern and Tevos.

"Yes, I heard what I said," muttered the turian. "We'll…we'll give you the coordinates of his last area of operations. Yes…that seems…reasonable."

Spirits, he prayed nothing bad would come out of this. Hopefully their actions would not result in the Master Chief's tomb reading "death by womenfolk" as well.

~0~

* * *

 _ **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: WARFARE: ARMOURED WARFARE: M-IS-2 "Iosif Spartan" Heavy Scorpion**_

 _The IS-2 Scorpion is a Kuromorimine-designed Heavy Tank, currently one of the largest and most destructive vehicles in the UNSC arsenal. Initially developed to counter Covenant heavy armor, the IS-2 Scorpion is currently being redeployed to the Citadel Theatre. Designed as a heavy breakthrough tank and infantry support platform, the IS-2 Scorpion is expected to be able to effectively destroy every possible vehicle the UNSC's might face._

 _Its primary armament is the 90mm railgun, capable of punching through a Type-26 Wraith in one shot and still retain enough momentum to damage objects behind it. The tank's armor plating is extremely heavy, with the frontal glacis plate featuring 800 millimeters of high-grade titanium plating covered by 20 millimeters of Covenant Nanolaminate armor to further boost its ability to shrug off directed energy weapons._

 _The IS-2 Scorpion's sloped armor is said to be capable of withstanding a direct hit from a Type 47B Scarab and continue operating_


	18. 2,7: Daily life with new beginnings

**AN:** _I finally,_ _ **FINALLY**_ _finished my education. I'm a certified, functioning member of human society now. Let's don the party hats and update the lewd fanfictions while we're at it!_

~0~

* * *

 **UNSC CODEX ENTRY: WARFARE: ARMOURED WARFARE: Pz.E TIGER SCORPION I**

 _As Kuromorimine's economical and financial prowess sky-rocketed near the end of the war, they were able to abolish the UNSC's need to minimize production costs. This resulted in a vastly-increased budget, allowing the Company to produce and field vehicles such as the Pz.E Tiger Scorpion._

 _Originally intended as a heavy breakthrough tank, the Pz.E Tiger Scorpion I is a Kuromorimine -designed Heavy Tank, first produced in 2544. The Tiger Scorpion was, just like the IS-2 Scorpion, meant to counter Covenant armored vehicles such as the Type-26 Wraith. Unlike the IS-2, however, the Tiger could travel at up to 100 KPH and could accelerate from 0 to 40 KPH in under 7 seconds. When the Human-Batarian war broke out, Tiger Scorpions that survived the Covenant Theatre were immediately shipped to the Citadel Theatre._

 _The Tiger Scorpion's sloped armor consists of heavy-duty Titanium-A composite, allowing it to easily shrug off small-arms fire, mass accelerator and plasma alike. Its armor is 100 mm thick on the hull side plates, 120 mm on its rear and 160 mm armor on the front, which allows it to survive a direct Plasma Mortar impact._

 _In addition to its 120 mm Smooth Bore High Velocity Cannon, the Tiger Scorpion is outfitted with several coaxial machineguns for anti-infantry purposes, as well as a mounted 7,62 mm six-barrel rotary machinegun which can be controlled by a Smart AI in close proximity._

~0~

* * *

 **05:00 Hours, February 4, 2549 (Military Calendar) / Attican Traverse, Horizon**

"No-Man's-Land"

For many humans, the immediate, ingrained response to someone screaming was to freeze and stare, caught still like a deer in the headlights. In the few months of training the young men of Horizon had, that instinct had yet to be suppressed.

A whistling noise tore through the air, impacting perhaps a second after it became audible. The ground shook, men toppled and fell and metallic slugs began flying from the other side of the trenches.

Private Chris Silva was thrown on his back by the artillery strike, having responded too late to the collected shouts of alarm. He came to a stop against the mud-addled edge of the trench, gasping for air. A faint ringing noise echoed in his ears and he shook his head to clear the dizziness.

"I got radio contact!" Someone yelled. "What do I say?"

The soldier next to him gave him a shove, shouting something that Silva couldn't understand.

"R-Right! We need immediate reinforcements – shit! We got chargers!"

Silva ripped his rifle from the mud and threw himself against the edge. Everywhere he looked it was equal parts grey stone and brown mud, addled with blood and bodies as far as the eye could see.

The invaders were pushing again! A group of those big fucks – krogan, he believed – came rushing at them like madmen, eager to score another kill.

"Don't let them get past us!" Shouted Private Bohdan. "The AA's all we got!"

It seemed the hostiles were doing quite well for a race not familiar with trench warfare. Perhaps it had something to do with their sheer numbers; for every Marine left standing, the aliens could throw ten bodies across the fields of mud and water. Every now and then, one of them would step on a landmine and vanish in an explosion of mud and viscera, but those occasions became increasingly rare.

Their radio operator continued, flinching as the eight men around him opened fire on the krogan. "Sergeant Raynold is dead! We're running low on ammo, we can't hold this position!"

Another squadron of aircraft roared through the air, easily navigating the torrents of downpour that had turned the battlefield into a death trap. How many thousands of those damned things did the aliens have? Did their squad even have enough ammo to down them?

"Bohdan!" Shouted Silva. "You got frags?"

His childhood friend paused to check his belt, then shook his head. "Negative. I'm all out!"

Behind their defensive pocket, the collection of hastily-erected AA platforms roared to life. It was the one part of this mess of an operation that managed to work out in the end. Tens of thousands of bullets of many different forms and shapes filled the air, dominating the invaders' air force whenever it appeared.

It seemed to be one of humanity's advantages against the Batarian Hegemony; what they lacked in raw firepower, they compensated for with _speed_. Faster computers, faster vehicles, faster bullets and above all, _more bullets._

That was the sole reason the small handful of Marines managed to hold out as long as they did.

Silva brought his MA5 to his sore shoulder, sighted in on one of the massive aliens and squeezed the trigger. The weapon bucked as he put a three-round burst into the alien's center of mass, but it hardly seemed to feel the bullets as they blew away large chunks of armor and flesh.

The other soldiers fell in and concentrated fire on the krogan as well. The aliens screamed and finally died, mere inches away from the scorched barbed wire that marked their defensive pocket.

"This position is lost!" Continued the radio operator, desperately trying to convince the brass that they had one more squad of soldiers to pull from the mud. "We need extraction, now!"

Didn't Command _care_ that they were losing Tango Company in its entirety?

Silva propped himself up and fired another burst of fire at an approaching group of batarians, staying low to minimize his exposure to enemy fire – and snipers.

Something slammed into his chest with enough force to knock him back to the ground.

"I'm hit, I'm hit!" He cried. He ran his hands across his chest, silently praying that the mass accelerator round hadn't penetrated his BDU.

He didn't find any blood, nor any fresh wounds. "It didn't penetrate!" He added, hastily jumping back to his feet. Shivers ran down his spine when he stepped into a particularly deep pool of mud. His boots were soaked enough as it was.

Bohdan stepped next to him, rushing to fill up the gap in their fire, firing wildly at the approaching aliens.

Another low-pitched whistle alerted Silva and he immediately grabbed his comrade by his waist, pulling him away.

Seconds later, the ground shook as yet another explosive tore into their position.

"T-That's twice, B-Boges!" Yelled Silva.

"Yeah, I-I'll pay you back! Later!"

"Fuck!" Another Marine yelled. "They got the fifty!"

Silva shot a look at the direction of the scream and saw that the explosion had turned their Heavy Machinegun into scrap metal.

 _Fuck._ That MG was the only thing that kept the aliens from throwing more bodies at their position. With it gone, they wouldn't last five minutes.

"Where are those reinforcements, Davis?" Yelled Private Trevor.

"Shut up!" Davis shouted back. "Just shut up! I can't hear them! Repeat your last?"

"We've got incoming!" Silva brought his rifle to his shoulder and opened fire. Another batarian squad made its way through the no-man's-land, stepping over the bodies of humans and aliens alike. They opened fire the moment they were spotted.

One of the Privates was hit with a cluster of massive spikes, hitting him in his head. He dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.

 _Seven left,_ Silva grimly thought.

"We don't have an hour!" The Radio Operator shouted into the horn. "We can barely hold more than a minute! We need immediate air support!"

"Wait, what the hell is that?" Said Bohdan. "You guys see that?"

Silva risked a peek over the edge of the trench and saw some sort of multi-wheeled armored monster bearing down on them.

Private Trevor recognized the monster. "Ah shit, that's a goddamn Tomkah! Everyone take cover!"

Trevor barely managed to shout his warning before the massive armored vehicle opened fire with its twin turret.

Silva's eye to brain response wasn't fast enough to process what happened next. It came to him in snapshots; a shrill whine as their defensive pocket exploded, Bhodan's body coming apart in pieces, the barbed wire and assorted weapons being thrown through the air with liters of mud as the explosion washed over him.

For several long, painful moments, he saw only white, felt only pain.

Silva gasped sluggishly, blinking away the pain and pressure on his chest.

Neither of them faded.

Through a white haze, he saw that one of his comrades had fallen on top of him, the lower part of his body torn away in the explosion.

In a haze of pain, Silva could barely focus on what was going on, couldn't even form the thoughts needed to process what was taking place right before his eyes.

Batarians and krogan stepped into the pocket, inspecting the fallen Marines.

Trevor reached for his sidearm.

One of the batarians shot him in the head.

Silva groaned weakly and reached for his own sidearm. A backup process in the back of his mind kicked into gear, forcing him away from unconsciousness and steering him towards action. Every joint and bone in his body hurt as he wrestled his right arm free.

One of the batarians laughed and kicked Trevor´s body, knocking him on his face. He shot the corpse again.

Cold hate rose up in his throat like bile. That was everybody! Everybody the UNSC sent into this sector, killed off in half a week.

He closed his eyes, contemplating what to do next. He should follow Trevor's example. Ignore the ringing in his ears that was drowning out all the sound. Force himself to act – to be a soldier – and pull out his damn gun. Open fire on the invaders, get perforated in return. That seemed like a pretty good option at the moment…he sure as hell didn't want them to capture him alive.

Silva pushed past the pain that was enveloping his body and slowly reached for his sidearm. But just as his fingers brushes past the wet strap of the holster, noticed that the pools of water and mud around him started vibrating. Soon, the ground underneath him followed suit.

The young Marine sluggishly blinked. Was this a concussion? Brain damage?

The first warning the aliens got, was in the form of what had to be a triple explosion that impacted on the Toomkah. Given that it failed to fire back, it was very likely that the shots killed it then and there.

That was when one of the fallen Marines leapt to his feet, grabbed his rifle and opened fire on the batarians. Silva took that moment to pull out his magnum and, biting through the screams of protest that flared up in his body, emptied the clip into the face of the nearest krogan, turning it into mincemeat.

The soldier spotted him and moved to free him from the mangled body on top of him. He yelled something, but Silva couldn't hear him. It was only when Silva looked at him from up close that he recognized him as Davis, the radio operator.

Davis dragged him to a nearby crater. Together, they stumbled down for cover. The batarians didn't even chase them. Instead, they attempted to pull back from the ruined defensive pocket, only to get shredded by a hail of gunfire.

"Holy shit! Shouted Davis. "Look at that!"

Silva followed his gaze and felt his heart leap. From the east, emerging from a wave of billowing mud and dust, came what appeared to be an entire battalion of tanks. They appeared from the top of one of the few hills that had remained unscathed by the enemy's artillery barrage, then drove down in a rough V-formation.

Tanks?

The resulting shootout was brief, intense and brutal. All of the UNSC's tanks opened fire at the same time, each of them producing a reverberating roar as the shells passed through hundreds of meters of empty air before finding their targets.

Columns of bloody dirt flew high into the air. Body parts, weapons and pieces of equipment rained down on the batarian's side.

The approaching tank Company split up into two groups. One of the groups, spearheaded by something that didn't look like a normal Scorpion at all, raced across the trenches and pushed straight into the batarian's offense.

The second group formed a loose semi-circle behind the defensive pocket. One of the armored monsters stopped within ten feet of the two Marines, firing its machineguns at the enemy all the while. The tank lacked the four track nacelles of the Scorpion design Silva knew. It was higher and broader as well, and it even had what had to be a minigun attached to its turret.

Its appearance must have startled the batarians as much as it did the humans, as the invaders promptly renew their artillery barrage.

"Come on!" Shouted Davis. "Run for the tank!"

The mud sucked at Silva's muds as he made a beeline for the tank. His mind, shell-shocked and numbed by adrenaline, finally recognized that he wasn't going to die.

Bullets harmlessly pinged off the tank's side. An explosion went off perilously close, but whoever commanded the vehicle didn't seem fazed.

Davis reached the tank first. He clumsily climbed atop the monster, smearing mud and blood over its frontal plates. He grabbed the protective ring around the turret and heaved himself into the minigun's seat.

Silva stopped. He was forgetting someone. "Boges!" He shouted. His ribs ached in protest. "Bohdan? Where are you?"

Davis shouted at him, his words unintelligible above the roar of the minigun.

"Boges!" Silva yelled again. Where was he? There had been an explosion, a big one, and…where was his friend? "Bohdan!"

Something slammed into the tank's side. For the second time that day, a flare of bright light erupted in Silva's vision and he felt himself slamming into the mud. The impact left him winded. For several moments, he just lay there, gasping for air, wondering why his body wouldn't move. He sluggishly rolled onto his stomach and tried to push himself to his feet again.

He couldn't move.

Silva cursed weakly and tried again. An incredible pain slowly spread through his right shoulder, numbing his arm. Frustrated, Silva glanced down at the offending limb.

His arm was gone, just above the elbow. He stared at the stump, barely visible underneath the tattered, bloody rags of his sleeve.

He was vaguely aware of people screaming at him. He wanted to scream as well, but his body wouldn't obey him.

Someone roughly grabbed the back of his rucksack and hauled him back to his feet. Somehow, he ended up closer to the tank than he thought. Davis had left the minigun and was trying to drag him into the turret with him. He was failing; his own blood was smeared all over the gun's controls and his bloodied hands were trembling with exertion.

That was when the tank's hatch opened next to him. A young woman wrapped her arms around his torso and pulled him inside the tank.

"Survivors secure, move out!" She snapped at the rest of the all-female crew, who didn't hesitate to follow her orders. Before the crew could strap Silva in, the tank was already moving.

Silva gasped at the sudden shift in environment. He never thought the cold, hard interior of a tank could be so warm. He glanced up at the girl who just saved him. She had already taken her position at the center of the tank, issuing orders at the driver. She looked young, barely out of her teens. Her blond-silver hair was longer than regulations allowed, reaching past her shoulders. He had no idea what unit she belonged to, as he couldn't recognize her uniform. Long, black boots, a black jacket with matching hat… who were these girls?

Someone laid a hand on his shoulder and gave him a canteen with water. She too was a young woman, barely older than Silva himself. Her eyes were friendly, but went wide with shock when she spotted his wound. She clasped a hand in front of her mouth and, without words, retrieved a medkit from one of the strapped-down boxes.

Silva didn't want to look. He didn't want to think about what just happened. He felt drained, sick to his core and confused.

"Driver, watch out for mines," the silver-haired girl said. Silva found her voice soothing, so close…so far away. He didn't want to look at himself, so he looked at her. He couldn't quite discern her from the tank's dark interior though…

Someone slapped his cheek, but Silva barely even registered the touch. Slowly, the darkness took him.

~0~

* * *

 **08:32 Hours, February 4, 2549 (Military Calendar) / Attican Traverse, Horizon**

 **Firebase Tripoli**

" _Total losses all around?"_ Asked General Zhukov. His face on the screen was slightly distorted by static.

Lieutenant Maho Nishizumi calmly crossed her wrists behind her back. "Yes, General. This morning, three of our Armored Companies repelled the batarian assault in the west. Thus far, we secured nineteen survivors."

The General closed his eyes for a moment. " _The 6th Battalion Reserves was our last option at holding the cities defensively like the UNSC wanted."_

Maho wondered who was responsible for putting a Major in charge of nine-hundred men. Correction, _boys_. Someone in Command had messed up and it cost Horizon their entire garrison. Had the Kuromorimine Academy been a few hours too slow in sending expeditionary forces, Horizon would have fallen.

" _That means there is nothing holding us back. Lieutenant, I want you and your officers to take up defensive positions in the western side of Hannover. The batarians own that city now. Three days from now, we're going to take it back."_

Maho nodded. "Yes General. When will the next UNSC reinforcements arrive?"

Zhukov shook his head. " _Days away at best. Use the 6th' survivors to augment your own forces until then."_

Maho blinked. She had not expected that. "I will have to see how reliable they are, sir."

The General narrowed his eyes somewhat. " _It's all we have. General Rommel is making his way to us from Firebase Paris with his own Companies. The Hegemony owns that ground. Until then, any losses you take won't be replenished."_

"I don't intent to take any losses, sir."

Zhukov nodded. " _That would be all_."

The General cut the transmission from his end. With the Communications satellite destroyed, it was no use prolonging the debriefing anyway.

Maho wondered what to do with the nineteen survivors. None of them were much older than twenty, which meant that they had yet to finish their training. Specializations would be rare…she could work with engineers and scouts. A sniper would be useful too. Their tanks would have to rely on old-fashioned communications and scouting operations to operate at peak efficiency.

Yes, that seemed like the best option for now.

Maho exited the communications room and headed back to the outside perimeter of Firebase Tripoli, their current headquarters. There, she spotted one of her officers. "Koume. Prioritize medical treatment to the survivors of the 6th Battalion. Focus on flash-cloning new organs and limbs. We need them to be combat ready soon."

Koume, an average-sized girl with short, reddish hair, seemed taken aback by the order. "Eh? Already? Some of them seem fit enough, but others were really hurt!"

"This is war," replied Maho simply. "Until all civilians have been evacuated, we must not falter. Round up those who can still fight. Tell Sheska to evaluate their abilities."

"Y-Yes ma'am!"

As her subordinate rushed away, Maho glanced up at the sky. So many dead, so soon after the Human-Covenant War finally ended…if it hadn't been for that Mass Relay network, would the Hegemony still be as dangerous? The past few days proved that the aliens were giving this war their all. In many ways, they had been more competent than the UNSC.

Maho tightened her fists. She refused to allow even one more casualty. For the sake of her family's name, she would crush the batarians with everything she had.

 _Miho,_ she thought. _I hope you are alright…_

~0~

* * *

If there was one thing the firefight at the drop-off point proved, it was that his team was still a long way from functioning like Spartans. One WIA after an ambush was to be expected, but a fallout between two teammembers? That was unacceptable. Both Miia and Dracosa needed to be reminded of what the stakes were.

At the very least they now had a capable medic on their team. The little necromancer darted back and forth between the various consoles and pieces of equipment in the sickbay, demanding to be told the function of those "marvelous machines".

"That," Cortana patiently explained, "is a clone tank for organ duplication."

Chrome's eyes grew the size of dinner plates. "You can do that?" She gasped. Then, another thought occurred to her. "Wait, you _need_ that?"

The Chief glanced at the shoe-box-sized tank. He never personally needed new limbs, but some of his Spartans had. Will-043 managed to set a record within the SPARTAN-II's ranks, requiring three new limbs in two years' time.

He sighed. He sure could use Will on his team now. "That's war."

Chrome shrugged. "Not any war I've ever seen. Everything you people have is so much _bigger_! Even you!" She paused, then shot him a scrutinizing look. "Especially _you_. I've never seen a human as big as you are. Are all your proportions right?"

Upon hearing that remark, Cortana broke down into a laughing fit. The Spartan shot her a glance, wondering what she was on about. Of course his proportions were right; his MJOLNIR wouldn't fit otherwise.

"You'll be functioning as the team medic," the Chief said, ignoring the necromancer's strange remark. "No black magic unless I give you an order. The dedicated research lab is for pharmaceutical purposes."

Pouting, Chrome replied, "Sure, but…just healing? I _am_ a succubus; I can easily incapacitate any man."

"We are not fighting _men_ ," the Spartan sharply said. "You will follow your orders. Am I clear?"

"Ah – sure, yes, totally!" Yelped the little succubus, startled by the hard edge in his tone. "I got it!"

The Chief glared at her. "See to it that you do."

"Yeah…Chrome, anytime you want to access the archives, don't hesitate to ask," Cortana said, her voice reassuring. "It is important you know what we are up against. Master Chief? You are needed on the bridge."

"Copy that."

He turned around and left the medical bay. The moment he did, however, Cortana opened a private channel and said, " _Listen, you might want to ease up on the crew somewhat."_

"What for?"

" _Because only half your team consists of soldiers, Chief. And of those two, one is mentally scarred. This mission requires a different approach."_

That much seemed obvious to him. "We still have a mission to complete. We can't afford to grow lax."

" _But cutting them some slack won't hurt. They're not Spartans, Chief, but you are. You are also their leader. You need to make this work."_

John knew what she was getting at. Leaders were supposed to inspire and lead by example. If they were to have any shot at stopping General Desolas from finding the Conduit, this team needed to get itself into shape. "Plot a course to the Citadel. I'll straighten out this mess."

" _Got it."_

As Cortana did her thing and relayed his orders to the bridge, the Chief made his way to the crew quarters. It was high time that he had a little talk with the Corporal regarding little things like discipline and not assaulting your fellow soldiers over suspected slights.

Contrary to the crew quarters of normal Destroyers, those on the _Reach_ took much longer to search if you were looking for a particular soldier. Luckily for the Chief, between the lack of a large crew and the organized manner in which the quarters were built, he didn't have to look far.

The Corporal's name was stamped on the fifth room, rank first, last name second. The Master Chief raised his fist and knocked on the door. "Corporal? A word?"

A few seconds ticked by without response. The Chief was about to knock again when the door suddenly slid open.

Mendez once said that the Dragons were regarded as "King of all Creatures" for a very legitimate reason. Even among Liminal species, they were feared for their bestial strength and intimidating appearance.

At this very moment, the Chief couldn't see any of that in Draco. She looked up at him with a mixture of indifference and annoyance, one of her eyes concealed behind a bang of hair. She forewent her fatigues for a more relaxed outfit, including a green tank top and short-zipped tactical pants. Her petite body size was a stark contrast to her fighting style. All in all, she looked more like a civilian who just got out of bed than a soldier.

"A word?" Said the Chief.

She shrugged and stepped aside, offering the Spartan a closer look at her room. It looked a lot like how Saren kept his room; there were very few personal items spread around her bunk. An omni-tool lay on her bunk, surrounded by three knives. A handgun had been partially stripped and thrown to the ground and an old, tattered book lay on her pillow.

The moment she spotted the Chief glancing at the book, she reached with her tail and knocked if off the bed.

 _There's a story,_ thought the Spartan.

Draco glanced down at her bed, shoved one of the knives off with the tip of her tail and sat down. Then, she looked at the Chief, cocking her head quizzingly.

"You and I need to talk about your role on this team," started the Chief. "I appreciate your skillset. I have a problem with your attitude."

A dark look crossed Draco's face. She averted her eyes, but the Chief saw his words hit home.

Good; he needed her to realize what she was doing wrong. "We're on a mission to stop a megalomaniac from finding a weapon of potentially mass destruction. Assaulting your teammembers will not help."

Draco shot upright, opening her mouth to protest, but the Chief wouldn't have it. "Sit. Down. "

Gritting her teeth, the girl did as she was told.

 _Finally, progress._ "Now I need you to tell me. What happened?"

She blinked with surprise. Obviously, she had not been expecting that. "I… I just feel so angry…all the time," she muttered with a small voice. "When I'm reminded of a…past failure…" She shook her head.

The Master Chief had read her profile, her Service Vitae. He knew the cause of her anger. He just needed to hear it from her. "When did this start?"

Her eyes were brimming with barely-contained fury when she looked at him. "Mindoir."

There it was. A single word, different for every soldier, that served to bind them all together. For her it was Mindoir. For him it was Reach. "The batarians," he replied.

"You know." Her voice was harsh, like the very fact he knew about her past offended her.

The Chief considered his next words. "We're fighting alongside each other," he slowly said. "I know about all of you."

"Yet we don't know about you."

He sighed. He held no illusions that he could reveal anything important about himself, but he needed to gain Draco's trust. Concessions had to be made. "What do you want to know?"

"What did you lose?"

The Master Chief blinked. What did he lose? The answer to that question varied. Jacob Keyes would say he lost his home. Doctor Halsey would say he lost his brothers and sisters.

…Kelly would probably say he lost his sense of humor.

"My home, I suppose," he eventually answered. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "I had a friend once. He's gone now."

"What happened?" Draco quietly asked.

The Chief shrugged. "That's the thing. We never found out."

"Were you close?"

 _Yes._ "He was a Spartan. We knew our duty."

"Do you want revenge?" She asked.

Revenge? Maybe. Against whom, he didn't know. "You took your revenge. Torfan? You gained a lot of attention that day."

Contrary to Miia, who loved talking about her moment of glory, Draco lowered her head and grunted. "I'm not done."

"Not done?"

She shook her head. "Not done. Not until I've got my family back, or they all die."

It wasn't the sanest remark the Master Chief ever heard, and it actually took him aback. She was talking about killing off the entire batarian race, wasn't she? It seemed extreme.

Cortana's remark rang in the back of his mind. Mental scars, she had said.

"Either way," the Chief carefully said, "It is no use taking it out on your team."

Draco grumbled something in response. The Chief would take what he could get. "I will be dropping by Lieutenant Lucifinae as well. We're in this together. Our mission is too important."

"I get it," she replied with a small voice.

The Chief nodded. "Then I'll leave you be." He moved towards the exit again, but Dracosa interrupted him.

"Master Chief?"

He paused, then turned to face her.

"Who else will you recruit for this mission?"

The Master Chief pondered her question for a few moments. "Whoever we need," he eventually settled for.

She made a sound not unlike a growl. When she didn't say anything however, the Chief guessed that she was done talking. He turned his back and turned away, gently closing the door behind him.

If it wasn't for the enormous lack of manpower, he doubted the young woman would have made it into the army. There was no way she passed the psychological test. He would keep a close eye on her; he couldn't have her snapping when it mattered the most.

The Master Chief paused, pondering what to do next. They had no new objectives, no new trails to find General Arterius…

He sighed. Back to square one.

Returning to his private quarters, the Chief spent an hour reading up on the latest news, military articles and events. One paper piqued his interest in particular.

 _The New Deal._

Apparently, the UNSC had forged a new Lend-Lease Act with the Migrant Fleet. Called "The New Deal", the agreement would see thousands of quarians shipped to work onboard UNSC warships. The UNSC would also send up to two dozen obsolete or aged warships to the Flotilla in return for several teams of expert quarians engineers, who would help retrofit UNSC warships with kinetic barriers.

There was more to the act than just that. The Chief downloaded the entire document and read it through. War factories on Earth and other worlds were churning out hundreds of thousands of firearms. Up to five percent of those weapons would be sent to the Flotilla to replace their aging rifles, while the quarians would aid in the production of new BDU's to replace the staggering losses taken in the war.

That came as a relief to the Chief. He had seen enough Marines die by single plasma bolts, knowing that body armor from Citadel Space might have saved their lives. No more obsolete gear for the Marine Corps.

A call must have come in through the _Reach's_ communication array, as someone forwarded a message to his room. It automatically started playing and the Chief sighed when he realized he had to change the settings again.

" _Master Chief, my name is Nassana Dan – "_

"No," said the Chief, cutting off the message. He returned his focus to the paper, but it didn't take the system long to recognize that he cut the call off instead of declining it. It promptly redirected the call again.

" _My name is Nassana Dantius. I have a job for you…"_

The Master Chief reached for the device from which that accursed voice came and searched for the option to decline.

" _I can't say more in an unsecured connection – "_

That one?

" _IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN HEARING MY OFFER, MEET ME AT THE CITADEL IN THE – "_

No, that was the volume button. That one?

" _ **I will be waiting in the Embassies. Please hurry. Somebody's life is at stake."**_

Who on Earth added a voice synthesizer to the device? If he wanted to hear a woman talk with a Brute's voice, he'd sign in for a psychological evaluation.

"Cortana," he growled. "How do I turn this thing off?"

" _The big red button, Chief?"_

He found the big red button and jabbed his thumb against it, finally cutting the strange woman off.

"… _what was that about?"_ Asked Cortana.

"Probably spam."

" _Spam? From a message redirected to a secure military connection? I doubt Miia surfed the extranet without anti-virus protection again. No, this sounded legit."_

"I don't care. We have other things to worry about," replied the Chief.

Cortana sighed. " _She said it was a job offer, Chief. Jobs often entail money. Since our last attempt at gathering money resulted in a shootout with Templars, I suggest we at least look into this."_

The Chief mumbled something in return.

" _Speak up John, I can't hear you?"_

"We don't need more credits."

Cortana's voice assumed that tone. That "you-are-wrong-and-here-is -why" tone. " _Oh really? You know that credits buy guns and ammo, right? And sandwiches and personal hygiene? Romantic candles and cond – "_

"Candles?" Interrupted the Chief.

" _Fact is, I am used to a certain lifestyle. And so are you, just a…bit different."_

Doctor Halsey's words echoed through his mind. _Never argue with an AI. Just pull their plug._

John rolled with his eyes. He wasn't going to win this one. "Fine. How close is the Citadel?"

" _Half a day at most. I'll inform the crew."_

"You do that."

Thoroughly distracted from his reading session, the Spartan stood up and left his quarters again. Though a warship like the _Reach_ needed a larger crew to operate at full efficiency, he was content with the skeleton crew. No curious glances, no hushed whispers. Just him and an empty hallway.

Cortana broadcasted a warning through the intercom, telling the crew to brace for a Slipspace jump just as the Chief passed by a viewport. He paused upon seeing reality warp and twist around them, before the _Reach_ vanished from normal space.

The Chief felt the muscles in his stomach clench.

 _"Incoming!" Polaski cried over the COM. John turned to the dropship and saw a third plasma projectile materialize from the folds of tangled Slipspace. This one skimmed a mere three meters over the hull—straight toward them._

Tension seeped into his shoulders. How many of his Spartans were still alive? How many survived the Battle of Earth? He was their leader, he was responsible for their wellbeing, their safety. Yet here he was, not even knowing if his brothers and sisters were still alive.

The galaxy was bigger than ever before. Now more than ever did the UNSC need Spartans. Any Spartan other than him would have made for an excellent Spectre agent.

"Uhm…Chief?"

The timid voice shook him from his thoughts. He looked up and to his right, spotting Kyuri standing in the hallway, clad in civilian clothing.

Fairly revealing clothing.

John started feeling unseasonably warm when he saw her shortly-cropped top and skirt. The dark fabric was a stark contrast to her unnaturally-pale skin. She had the complexion of a Spartan, though her large, leathery wings also had something draconic.

"Kyuri?" He replied.

"I-I was wondering if you were alright…" she muttered. "A-After the fight…"

The Chief wondered what sort of clothing a girl like her could wear. The membrane of her wings was attached to her lower back, which had to make incredibly uncomfortable to get dressed for her. Now that he looked her over again, he saw that her clothes were open at the sides, exposing even more of her skin. He could see the gaunt contours of her hips, her long, shapely legs and a good portion of her stomach as well.

What did she just say?

"Excuse me?" He asked, somewhat perturbed that he allowed himself to get distracted.

"People must ask you that often," she timidly continued, fumbling with the long nail at the end of her claw. "I heard about the Spartans, but I didn't even recognize you. You saved my life and I don't even know your name."

"That's alright," he replied in what he hoped was a kind tone. At times like these, he wished Spartan-051 were here. Kurt had a knack for civilians. He always seemed to know what to say. "They don't."

She blinked with confusion and looked at his face. "I am sorry?"

"People don't ask us if we're alright. People don't really talk to us," he replied, bemused. The entire idea of a frail and slender civvie like Kyuri asking him if he was alright was downright ridiculous.

But not in a bad way.

"Oh!" She replied, sounding shocked. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't want to offend you." She cast her eyes down again, almost sorrowful.

John had seen Grunts with better self-esteem. "Don't worry. You didn't offend me." In fact, he found her honest curiosity to be refreshing. He didn't tell her that of course.

"I'm…my father and I lived in isolation, mostly," she muttered. "I barely know how to speak to humans, let alone other Liminals, or… _aliens,"_ she whispered that last word.

"I wanted to talk to you about that," said the Chief. "I take it you never partook in any fights, did you?"

A shudder ran through her body when he asked that. "Not that I…not that I remember…"

The implication was clear. He would not press her on that. "How are you holding up? After the firefight with the Templars, I mean."

Kyruri frowned. "I hated it. The fire, the guns…I thought I was going to die."

"But you didn't,' pointed out the Chief. "You're completely unhurt. How did you do that?"

"W-Well…Vampire senses are different from most species," started the young Liminal. "Our eyesight is rather poor, but our hearing is extremely sensitive. We can even hear ultrasonic."

The Chief winced. Ultrasonic hearing in a warzone? He would get Cortana to produce some specialized hearing protection for the Vampire. "How does that help you navigate the night?"

"Vampires can also _produce_ ultrasonic waves," Kyuri quickly explained. Her mood seemed to pick up. "You see, when those waves bounce off of things, we can use its reflection to…project an image of our surroundings."

"Echolocation," said the Chief, recalling a lesson from his childhood. Some animals could see without using their sight, stalking their prey without ever having to lay eyes on them.

He could only guess at the tactical possibilities.

"Yes!" Kyuri replied, glad that he understood. "When its dark outside, nobody can navigate better than a Vampire."

"Which is exactly why I think you should stay on the team," countered the Chief. "You just need more training."

Her expression grew somber. "You said the mission was important. Is there enough time to train a…someone like me?"

The Chief shrugged. "What you need to know, I can teach you. We'll have plenty of time to go through what you need to know."

Kyuri inhaled sharply. The Chief noticed that she didn't exhale again. "You would do that?"

"Yes," replied the Chief, puzzled at her shock.

Her pale cheeks slowly turned red. Her look of shock blended into one of fascination and something John couldn't recognize. She got closer to him, a bit too close for comfort. "T-Thank you! People don't often…I-I mean, when do we start?"

"As soon as possible," replied the Chief. "I'll have Cortana prepare a physical training schedule for you. In the meantime, drop by target practice. The Lieutenant can fill you in on basic weapon handling."

The Vampire nodded. "I'll do that!"

Satisfied that he had addressed the discipline problem in his squad, the Spartan made his way back to his private quarters. There, he read up on the newest events of the Human-Batarian war, as well as any relevant diplomatic decisions the UNSC made. Apart from a few hundred lend-leases, the Citadel had yet to pledge full support to humanity.

The Chief shook his head. Before their war with the Covenant, the UNSC could have easily stalemated the Batarian Hegemony. But now, after so many losses, they were starting to lose ground. They simply did not have the manpower, nor the equipment, to keep fighting.

At least they relocated the remaining Spartans to the Citadel theatre, according to Cortana. The batarians were inferior to the Covenant in every possible way imaginable. Even without equipment, or even logistical support, his brothers and sisters would turn this war into a nightmare for the Hegemony. Of that, John was certain.

~0~

* * *

 _The Warthog squealed to a stop, barely in time to avoid the first of the explosive bolts. The second one impacted on its side and the Transport Hog flipped sideways, the force of the explosion throwing it off the road. There was no time to react, not time to brace. Equipment was thrown about, slamming into doors and bodies. A wave of heat and overpressure washed over the soldiers inside. Two of them died when the shockwaves pulverized their internal organs and crushed their bones._

 _Private Kurusu groaned in pain, bungling sideways in his chair. His seat belt still held him in place. The world was spinning, his vision foggy. In a daze, he tried to make sense of what just happened._

 _A Marine sprinted towards him, dodging plasma bolts and shrapnel as he crossed the road. He came to a tumbling stop and slammed into the vehicle's frame. Cursing, he undid the belt buckle, allowing Kurusu to drop to the ground._

" _Take this," yelled the Marine, thrusting a rifle into Kurusu's hands, "And stay down!"_

 _There was a flash, the barest hint of light, and the soldier dropped like a puppet with its strings cut. Blood and steam whistled through the hole in his head as he slumped to the ground._

 _Driven by training more than anything else, Kurusu scrambled for cover. He tore his gaze from the fallen Marine and tried not to gag on the stench of cooked meat. There was another soldier stuck in the Hog. His belt buckle had warped because of the heat and wouldn't come loose. He had to help him!_

 _Grunts came for them from all directions. The air was filled with plasma and flurries of needles. Even as Kurusu returned fire, the pinned Marine caught a flurry of needles in the chest. The resulting explosion tore him in half, spraying blood and meat everywhere._

 _Kurusu wasn't spared. Even as he fought the urge to vomit over the ground, another explosion rocketed the burning Warthog. An explosion threw him off his feet, his chest plate taking the brunt of the blast. He felt something in his chest shatter and prayed it was just the ceramic plating in his rig and not his ribs._

 _A pair of boots ran towards him. Kurusu glanced down at his arm. It was still there, but started to hurt all of a sudden. It got worse and worse, to the point of drowning out all other sensations. The agony grew in intensity until a ragged scream escaped past his lips -_

He woke with a jolt, his scream caught in his throat as his muscles seized up. For several frantic moments, he didn't know where he was, didn't know what to do. He grabbed his combat knife in shivering, sweating hands, blinking to clear his blurred vision. His heart was pounding, his breathing erratic.

There were no Covenant in his room. There were no dead Marines lying on his wooden floor, or burning fragments embedded within his white bedroom walls.

Memories flooded back to him in an instant. He was home. The war was over.

He was safe.

Kimihito Kurusu sighed and swung his legs out of bed. The stump of his left arm throbbed painfully. He glanced up at the poster his physical therapist gave him; a picture of a beautiful lake, enlarged so that it almost covered his entire wall. Warm rays of sunlight beamed down from the window, illuminating the edge of the lake.

It looked like the sun was already up.

Kurusu shot a glance at his alarm and saw that it was almost ten o'clock.

"Son of a bitch…" he muttered. He threw the blankets off and got to his feet. He clumsily put on a pair of pants and reached for the nearest shirt. The first time, he put his hand through the gap where his head was supposed to go. He removed the damned thing and tried again.

This time, he got his head stuck where his arm was supposed to go.

Feeling frustration bubbling up inside of his stomach, Kurusu simply threw the shirt away and put on a pair of socks instead.

 _Baby steps,_ his therapist had said. He shouldn't push himself too far, that would only make things worse.

Kurusu stepped towards the window and fumbled with the lock. Eventually, he got it loose.

The city was already awake. The occasional dropship flew around, delivering supplies, equipment or more refugees. It didn't matter; Borne was short on almost everything except for financial support. He guessed he had the many Citadel charity organizations to thank for that.

Kurusu tried to push his dreams from his mind and headed to the kitchen to make himself some breakfast.

He had only been living in the house for a week now. It wasn't particularly big, but it did need a paintjob. The walls were solid, the windows were intact and he didn't have any direct neighbors. His backyard was large enough to drive a tank around, had it not been dense forest that grew there.

The city of Borne was home to thousands of refugees and veterans trying to build up a new life. People were being shipped in every single day, while aliens from Citadel Space made sure they didn't lack in food and comfort.

It was the strangest thing; Kurusu had to ration his fresh water, but he had coffee out the ass. He literally had twenty-eight cans of coffee powder, enough for two-thousands or so portions.

At least he had bacon…

Kurusu flipped the television on and opened the fridge to take out the ingredients for an omelet. As he reached for the frying pan, he heard the familiar sound of the Citadel newscast, where one of the big cheeses was making a statement.

" _The evidence has found to be irrefutable; General Desolas Arterius is responsible for the assault on Eden Prime,"_ Said the turian Councilor. " _His cowardly attack on a weakened nation shows the galaxy that he has become a threat to all who value peace! Worse, he allied himself with the geth!"_

Kurusu couldn't help but smile. Good old Sparatus…more passionate in his defense of mankind than some actual human politicians were.

He put the ingredients on the counter and oiled up the pan. He heard the Council say something about how Arterius refused their calls and how the Council would do everything in their power to bring him to justice.

Sparatus usually backed his words up, but the other two were all empty promises. They were supposed to bring an end to batarian aggression too. As far as everybody knew, batarian aggression had risen to new levels.

Taking a sip of coffee, Kurusu felt another stab of pain run through his arm. He winced, but there was nothing he could do. Fucking thing hurt like hell, even though the Covenant blasted it off weeks ago. His therapist had a name for it. Something-something pain…he didn't remember.

Clinics were so overworked that the next flash-cloned limbs might take months. And so, he was forced to go through his new life at a snail's pace, literally taking twice as long with everything he did.

 _Baby steps._

He took another swig of coffee and poked at the bacon with a knife. News reporter said something about Spectres, but Kurusu didn't care much for Council politics. His old Sergeant always said –

The doorbell rang, shaking him from his thoughts. Kurusu's head snapped towards the hallway. A new person? Already? No, no no no – it was too soon, way too soon!

Trying desperately not to panic, he shoved the pan from the fire and proceeded to stare at the door in confusion. He hadn't even seen his neighbours yet! He still had to wait a couple of days to hear if he was eligible for a job, his parents lived on Elysium – there wasn't supposed to be people yet!

"The fuck?" He whispered to nobody in particular. Forcing himself to move, he scooped up a blue shirt from the couch and quickly pulled it over his head.

His empty sleeve bungled uselessly by his side as he strode to the door. The seconds felt like minutes, every step he took caused his heart to beat faster and faster. He looked to his right, making sure that his service pistol was still lying where it was supposed to. Satisfied he wouldn't enter the fray without a weapon, he slowly pulled the door open.

For a moment, he simply stared. Before him stood a gorgeous woman clad in all black. Long, black hair cascaded down her back. Her eyes were covered by a pair of dark sunglasses, but they couldn't the big grin on her face.

What really caught Kurusu's eye, was the person standing behind her. The upper part of her body looked like an attractive young woman, her skin as white as alabaster. Her short, black hair covered one side of her face, concealing a pair of blood-red eyes. The lower part of her body was that of an enormous spider with a black carapace.

 _Arachne_ , thought Kurusu. And a pretty one at that. He had seen some of them in action on Earth. He wasn't a big fan of Liminals, but as far as he knew, they never tried to kill him.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"Are you Kimihito Kurusu?" Asked the woman. Something about her tone triggered all sorts of alarms in the back of his head. The Arachne's sour expression didn't help matters either.

"Yes? Who wants to know?" Replied Kurusu. Some of the Liminal's eyes focused on his empty sleeve and he felt a chill run down his spine. If these two woman decided to attack him, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

"I'm agent Smith, from the Office of Naval Intelligence's Rehousing program," said the woman, Smith.

 _ONI_. Had he been a catgirl, he would have hissed at the woman. Her next words, however, came as an even bigger shock.

"As part of the Rehousing program, I am here to place Atlach-Nacha into your care as her host."

The Arachne crossed her arms over her ample chest and looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and scorn. "Hello, boy," she cautiously said.

Kurusu waved at her, flabbergasted by what he just heard. It wasn't that uncommon for people to be assigned a new homestay, but…he never thought that would happen to him.

 _Fuck me, I need a drink…_

"You don't mind if we come in, right?" Smith politely said.

"Uhh…"

"Why thank you!"

Smith stepped past the dumbstruck Kurusu and wandered into his room. Reluctantly, the Arachne followed her. She made surprisingly little sound as she navigated the hallway.

"I don't remember signing up for a program like that," Kurusu said as he closed the door and followed the spook into his living room.

"Don't worry. ONI remembers for you! At this point, that is almost our official slogan. Now then…apart from the paperwork you will have to fill out, we will take care of the financial impacts…"

"Paperwork?" Repeated Kurusu.

"…as well as any property damage. As you can see, we have everything we need in order. Now then…"

All that Kimihito wanted was to lay back and let the end of the war wash over him. Preferably in the form of whiskey. Rum would do as well.

The house wasn't even finished! The upper floors needed new furniture, the back wall had no paint and he was pretty sure that the attic was haunted!

"I think there was some sort of mistake," Kimihito softly said. "I really don't remember signing up for something like this."

At that, Smith chuckled. "You might say that, but your house is big enough. Plus, you live here all alone! Also, look at this!"

She shoved a piece of paper into his face. At the very bottom, someone wrote down a signature.

 _His_ signature.

Kimihito stared at the paper for a few moments. Had he been drunk? Delirious?

…sleepwalking?

He couldn't remember being in an altered state of mind since his surgery. This was some grade-A ONI bullshit.

"Are you sure we have the right place?" Said the Arachne, Atlach. She looked frustrated, as well as a bit tired. She probably thought he was supposed to be her host as well, happy and relieved that she was finally assigned a place to live, only to find a crazy Marine arguing otherwise.

She truly was stunning to look at. Her six, reddish eyes had something predatory, while her chitin-covered hands almost looked like black gauntlets. He didn't know Liminals looked so _cool_

And those _hips_.

"Of course we do, don't worry," replied Smith. She pushed her sunglasses back into the right place and said, "Seeing as we have Mister Kurusu's signature…"

Yes, they did. ONI Being ONI, they must have copied it or something. And seriously, who wore sunglasses while inside? There literally wasn't a better way to cement their position as shady bastards.

…still, it wasn't as if he was _planning_ on staying alone. Would it really be so bad to host her?

"Yeah, you do," said Kimihito. "It uhm…must have slipped my mind. Why don't you both sit down and I'll make some…coffee or tea or something."

"Coffee would be nice," Smith said with the biggest shit-eating grin he saw on her face. Still, a big grin was better than the expression Atlach was wearing. She looked both anxious as…was that anger he saw?

Didn't matter. There was no way out of this anyway. "I apologize for my forgetfulness. Something as important as Atlach coming to live here shouldn't have slipped my mind."

"Oh, don't you worry, Mister Kurusu," replied Smith, taking the cup of coffee he offered her. "I've got some other clients who need to be reminded of their commitments every now and then as well."

He didn't like the sound of that.

Kurusu wordlessly offered Atlach some coffee as well, but she merely frowned in response.

Not a fan of coffee, then? Man, did he have some bad news for her…

"Then it is decided!" Smith proudly declared. "Starting today, Atlach will be living here under the same roof with Kimihito Kurusu as per the Rehousing program. Hopefully, this will promote peace and understanding between humans and Liminals even in the Attican Traverse."

Kurusu had heard something about that. Some colonies in the Attican Traverse saw strict separation between humans and Liminals. Horizon, for example, had never been populated with Liminals at all.

Just like that, the picture made sense. There was no way a normal civilian could come to terms with sharing the same roof with an Arachne. Not if they didn't have any experience with Liminals in their daily life. Him being a Marine with plenty of combat experience meant Atlach wasn't a strange sight for him.

More importantly, soldiers tended to have a better view of Liminals in general.

A smart plan, but executing it like this was kind of a dick move for ONI.

"So, Mister Kurusu, it is your job to look after and take care of Atlach, even as she has to look after and take care of you!" Her eyes flashed to his missing arm and Kurusu cringed underneath her gaze. He hated it when people looked at him like that. All those looks of pity and shock…he wanted to those looks and grind them into nothingness.

Smith scraped her throat. "Right then." She walked past the two of them and made her way from the living back to the front door. Before she left, she glanced over her shoulder and said, "There will be a renovation crew stopping by this afternoon. Parts of your house will have to be remodeled to accommodate for Atlach's physiology."

Alright, he supposed that made sense.

"I will leave the truck standing outside so you two can unpack." She waved. "Have fun!"

And then the ONI agent walked out of the house, leaving Kurusu and Atlach alone.

The human stared at the spot she just vacated for a few moments. "Well...welcome to your new home, Atlach," he awkwardly said. "Not a fan of coffee, I see?"

She wordlessly shook her head.

"Can I bring you something else?"

It turned out that, no, she didn't want something else. In fact, she didn't even seem willing to talk. Which was fine with him, of course. He timidly pointed her towards the guest room and she timidly took her place in said guestroom.

When Atlach softly closed the door behind her, Kurusu took a moment to sit down and catch his breath. "Baby steps," he muttered.

Most of his new…roommate? He supposed so. Most of his new roommate's stuff had already been placed at her door. Wondering if she was as surprised about all of this as he was, Kurusu walked back to the living room and slumped down into his couch.

Another wave of annoying, ticklish pain surged through his arm and he sighed, rubbing the empty sleeve absentmindedly. He had to read up on Arachne physiology. Maybe this place was too cold for her, or…or too bright. He had no clue how to make things comfortable for himself, but that didn't mean she had to be victim of that.

He breathed in deeply, then quietly exhaled. Everything was fine. Everything was alright…

With a loud gasp, Kurusu nearly rolled off the couch. His eyes darted towards the clock.

More than half an hour had passed. He must have dosed off again.

"What's wrong?"

Kurusu's heart skipped two beats, at the very least. "Shit!" He hissed, whirling around so fast he almost pulled a muscle. When he saw that Atlach stood in the living room, watching him, he sighed with relief. "Sorry."

The Arachne cocked her head. "What's wrong?" She asked.

"Yeah, sorry, I had a bad…a bad night. I'm still acclimatizing to normal...normal life." Kurusu took a steadying breath and got to his feet.

She cocked an eyebrow. "I can see that."

Wait a second…"Were you watching me?"

"I wanted to ask you something, but you were preoccupied," she coldly replied.

Oh dear lord, he _knew_ that he wasn't the prettiest sleeper around. Just what had she seen him do? "Yep." He gritted his teeth, trying to think of something to say that would make this less awkward. If any such combination of words existed, he could not think of it. "You wanted to ask me something?"

"I did," she slowly replied, never taking her eyes off of his. They were so sharp, so _bright_. "But that can wait."

"Wait for what?" Said Kurusu, a bit puzzled.

She blinked. "Why, for dinner, of course. I assume you can cook?"

The human felt a pang of embarrassment. "Yeah, I can cook," he replied, more agitated than he intended. "Of course I can."

"Splendid. I hoped as much. Shall we get started, then?"

Kurusu straightened and stretched his…well, arm. "One problem though," he said, stifling a large yawn.

"Oh?"

He walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "I've got water, bacon and enough coffee to supply all of ONI for the coming year."

Atlach stared at the fridge with a mixture of repulsion and surprise. "How primitive," she muttered.

"Should I be boiling that, then?" Kurusu asked, pointing at a can of water.

The Arachne's eyebrows narrowed. "Very well," she relented. "Bacon will do."

Yes, Kimihito supposed. For a morning like this, bacon would be an _excellent_ way to start.

~0~

* * *

 **09:07 Hours, January 28th, (Military Calendar) / Widow System, Serpent Nebula, Citadel**

 **Dock 423**

When the _Reach_ arrived at the Citadel the next morning, the Master Chief discovered that the Council had already arranged for a private docking bay. Dock 423 was even guarded by UNSC Marines, outfitted with new and improved hardsuits.

It reassured the Spartan that the Stealth Destroyer's secrets would remain the UNSC's own. He still didn't like how close the Citadel and the UNSC were when it came to technology sharing. If the Council ever turned in humanity, the only thing stopping them would be their dependence on the Mass Relays. If the Council got their hands on Slipspace technology…mankind would be completely at their mercy.

Lost in his thoughts, the Spartan almost missed the officer standing near the catwalk leading to the _Reach_ 's airlock. The man was definitely human, much to the Chief's relief, but there was no mistaking that stern frown on the man's face.

His HUD identified the man as Rear Admiral Mikhailovich.

Upon spotting the Spartan, the Rear Admiral approached him, then saluted. "Master Chief. Rear Admiral Mikhailovich."

John silently saluted back.

"I command the 13th Scout Flotilla, Citadel Theatre. A stealth ship like the _Reach_ was supposed to lead my Flotilla into batarian territory, to chart their core worlds. Then the Council got their paws…Claws. Tentacles, whatever, on our ship. And you."

" _Ho boy, here we go,"_ sighed Cortana.

The Chief frowned. He was under the impression that the _Reach_ had been developed for special operations, not scouting. "Sir. As a Spectre, I serve humanity as a whole. Good relations with the Council are the key to peace."

Crossing his arms, the Rear Admiral scowled. "Hmm. Still remember the color of your blood, Spartan? Whatever. I don't begrudge the political cloud surrounding your appointment." He directed his gaze to the _Reach_. "I do begrudge this overdesigned brick, though."

" _Hey! That's MY overdesigned brick he is talking about!"_

"I'm sorry you feel that way, sir," replied the Chief. He was puzzled; how on Earth did this man think a Stealth Destroyer was overdesigned?

"It's a gimmick, nothing more," continued the Rear Admiral. "This experiment diverted billions of credits from our funds!" He slammed his fist against his hand for emphasis. "For the same price, we could have had a fleet of Destroyers! But no, we had to make nice to the turians!"

"Salarians, sir," corrected the Chief.

"Whatever. I'm here to make an inspection, Spartan. The _Reach_ is still UNSC hardware, I intent to see if it is up to snuff!"

"Of course sir, I'll show you around – "

"Not necessary! I will inspect this one myself! Wait here, I'll be right back!"

`The Master Chief stepped aside, still flabbergasted by the strangeness of the conversation. Regardless, Spectre or not, he was a Spartan. What Spartan could say no to a Rear Admiral?

So he stood there, waiting for the officer to return. Rooted to his spot as he was, he hoped that the Rear Admiral didn't run into Keyes' crew. Or Corporal Victorias, for that matter. Or Saren.

Actually, he hoped that Mikhailovich wouldn't run into anyone.

About twenty minutes later, the Rear Admiral returned. John instantly straightened and saluted again, but Mikhailovich apparently didn't even notice.

"Master Chief, I am not happy!" He hissed.

The Chief zoomed in on the Admiral's neck and was relieved that he didn't see any bite marks. "What is wrong, sir?"

"Let's start with that CIC! Putting the commander aft of everyone else is inefficient! What if he needs to discuss with the operators towards the bow?"

John cocked an eyebrow. He could not recall such a design. "The Captain is in a good position to issue orders, sir. If he needs to discuss with other operators, he will turn towards them."

The Rear Admiral's hand snapped towards his chin. "Hmm…a reasonable explanation. But they should study that in a lab, rather than a front-line ship!"

The Spartan blinked a few times. What?

"I had to shake my head at that drive core of yours," continued Mikhailovich. "More than a billion credits of element zero to make this thing able to move without giving itself away! We could have built an entire new Destroyer with that amount of money! What good is it to hide for a few hours, anyway! Useless!"

"The Covenant made good usage of stealth technology in the war, sir," the Chief dryly replied. "Additionally, the _Reach_ makes use of stealth ablative coating. We do not require that much element zero to disrupt the enemy, sir."

"Maybe, maybe, but that is not the job of a proper warship." The man grumbled for a bit, then jabbed a finger at the Chief. "But we need to talk about your crew? Krogan! _Tourians!_ What are you thinking, Master Chief? You can't allow aliens free reign on UNSC equipment!"

"Sir, we do not employ krogan aboard the _Reach,_ " replied a thoroughly confused Spartan. "My…other crew has been tested time and time again in the field of battle. They are competent."

Grumbling quietly, Mikhailovich said, "I'll keep that in mind when I give my report to the Joint Military Council." He snapped off a crisp salute. "Goodbye, Master Chief."

The Chief was still saluting when the Rear Admiral strode towards the elevator and disappeared towards C-Sec Customs. "Cortana?"

" _I have no clue what just happened,"_ replied an equally confused Cortana. " _Why don't we just…head down to get a rapid transport…and forget this ever happened."_

The Chief couldn't agree more. He took the elevator down to C-Sec as well, sending a message to his crew that they take safely go and take their shore leave. He didn't have a lot to do aside from meeting that dubious asari,

Maybe he could drop by the Human Embassy, see if they had any new intel regarding the mission…

The elevator brought him straight into the belly of the C-Sec Academy. Somehow, it managed to look even more crowded than the last time. Officers ran around, suspects were being ferried to and fro and a woman with an asari-like dress immediately darted towards him.

The Chief immediately spotted her. She had dark skin and a thin frame. He couldn't see any bulges or points protruding from the form-fitting dress, but that wasn't to say she wasn't armed. That drone following her around seemed suspicious as well. Was she an Insurrectionist? A terrorist?

"Master Chief?" She said, extending a hand towards him. "Khalisah Bint Sinan-al-Jilani, Wusterland News."

Worse. A journalist.

The Chief stared at her hand, which she quickly lowered again. "Would you be willing to answer a few questions for our viewers?"

"No," he curtly replied, striding towards the elevator at the opposite end. He hoped that the elevator to the Presidium would be faster than waiting for the rapid transport.

She followed him however, and activated the drone behind her, which turned out to be a camera of all things. Its lens was annoyingly bright, and the MJOLNIR's HUD polarized to compensate.

"Humans have been trying to get the respect of the galactic community for more than twenty years. With that in mind, what are your feelings on potentially becoming the first human Spectre?"

" _Ho boy, 'tis one of ye olde reporters,"_ said Cortana. " _Hang on, I've got something for her. Just read the following sentences..."_

"Humanity hasn't been "trying" anything. Humanity has been _surviving_ for the past twenty years. Having a Spectre or not will not change history," the Chief read aloud. He couldn't help but feel a hint of venom in Cortana's words. He pressed the button and called for the elevator.

"Okay. Has the Citadel, on any occasion, asked you to place its need ahead of Earth's?" She continued, unfazed by his response.

"The Citadel asked the Spectre candidates to hunt down a war criminal. Wouldn't you say our interests aligned?" Replied the Chief.

She paused for a moment. "Some…some of our viewers feel like handing over one of humanity's most advanced warships to the Council was an enormous mistake. How would you defend such an action?"

"Cortana," whispered John. "I can't say the next aloud."

" _Ah…right, my bad."_

The words "PUNCH HER" transitioned into something more useful.

"That is a loaded question. There was no mistake. I say where the _Reach_ goes, not the Council. Anything other than that is a false fabrication on your part, Miss al-Jilani."

"No offense intended, Master Chief. I am sure you have to follow the orders of your superiors. Alien superiors, I might add. In your opinion, do you believe it is true that you are just a puppet for an alien regime?"

The words PUNCH HER appeared again, written in bright, red words. This time, the Chief understood why. Him? A puppet for an alien regime? He spent his entire life fighting for the sake of humanity. He gave everything he had for the people. More than everything.

"I've had enough of your snide insinuations," the Chief loudly proclaimed. Several of the officers – turian officers – stopped in their tracks and turned to look at him. "Billions of our people died to the Covenant before they could see the peace we've built these days. Claiming _any_ soldier is a puppet for an alien regime is a disservice to their memory."

Cortana's response wasn't that different from what he would have liked to say. In fact, the way she phrased it aligned almost perfectly with his thoughts. This was not what his Spartans deserved. This was not what any soldier deserved.

Now aware that she was being watched by more than a handful of people with a military background, miss al-Jilani scraped her throat and entered a command into her omni-tool. "Thank you for your time, Master Chief."

Only then did the elevator arrive. The Chief wordlessly stepped inside and pressed the button, eager to get out of there.

" _I don't remember human reporters being so…intrepid,"_ said Cortana. " _Must be a Citadel thing."_

He remained silent. Spartans weren't meant to interact with the media. Was this another aspect of being a Spectre? There were so many elements to this that he hadn't been trained for.

Thankfully, the rest of the journey to the Embassies went off without a hitch. The lobby was crowded, filled with aliens and Liminals, all of them interacting jovially and pleasantly. An asari sat by the window, holding a datapad in one hand and a purple drink in the other. Guessing that she was the woman who asked for him, the Master Chief walked up to her,

She noticed him almost immediately. "Master Chief? I am Nassana Dantius. I see you got my message."

John folded his hands behind his back.

The asari frowned ever so slightly. She read his silence as it was and continued. "My sister Dahlia is a crewmember of a cargo vessel operating beyond the fringes of the traverse. Her ship was attacked by privateers." She paused, then added, "There were no reported survivors."

"You want me to recover her body," guessed the Chief.

She sighed. "This is where it gets complicated. You see, last week I received a message with her voice on it. Dahlia is still alive! The rest of the crew was killed, but she was taken prisoner. The slavers demanded a huge ransom from me in exchange for returning her unharmed."

"Slavers."

She nodded, seemingly glad he picked up on that. "Most of them batarians, too. I…I already paid the money they wanted, but they haven't released her. In fact, I haven't heard anything from them since."

The Chief nodded, realizing that he should treat this as top priority for the moment.

"I've made mistake, Master Chief. I am a diplomatic emissary! By law, I am required to report any attempted extortion to C-Sec. And yet…"

"You were afraid they would kill her?"

"Yes! And now, I face imprisonment, while my sister faces a life in slavery!" She shook her head, then buried her face in her hands. "She's my sister…I can't lose her."

Family. Even aliens held the same values when it came to their brother and sisters. "Where can I find the people who took her?" He asked.

A hint of a smile played over Nassana's features. "I've already found her for you," she answered with a shaky voice. "I tracked the ransom through multiple accounts. Eventually, it lead to a small mercenary band operating out of the Artemis Tau Cluster."

"I'll find your sister," said the Chief. "And I'll bring her back."

"Thank you, Master Chief," she breathed with relief. "I knew I could count on a Spartan. Please, come back and see me when the job is done."

Nodding in agreement, the Spartan turned and left the Embassies. He had a list of gear he wanted to purchase, or at the very least order in advance, for the coming engagements. According to Cortana's budget, he should still have about a hundred thousand credits left.

 _Job_ , he thought when he brought up his omni-tool to update the mission parameters for his team. _Odd way to describe a rescue mission…_

~0~

* * *

 **11:28 Hours, January 28th, 2549**

 **Antaeus System, Hades Gamma Cluster**

 **UNSC _Normandy_**

Standing at the helm of the ship, Commander Shepard watched as the _Normandy_ drifted closer to the little terrestrial planet. According to the Coxed, its environment was relatively mild. The only thing that prevented the UEG from colonizing it was a severe scarcity of water. Still, that did not prevent a private organization from reviewing its surface for future terraforming projects.

"What do you think?" She asked Joker.

Her pilot snorted. 'Yeah, no ships, no radio transmissions, nothing. Apparently, Trebin suffers constant communication problems."

"Smells like an ambush," growled Wrex.

"Really?" Said Liara. "I don't smell thing."

Wrex shot her a glare.

"He probably means the whole 'lack of communications' thing," Garrus said, probably trying to be helpful.

"The research team supposedly uncovered Prothean artefacts during their research. We must be vigilant," Shepard told her team. "Make sure your helmets are sealed. Joker? Prepare to drop the Mako."

"Aye aye," Joker replied, not too enthusiastically.

Preliminary data from the _Normandy's_ scanners pointed out that there was a small encampment on the surface of the planet. It was the only lead they had, which meant another bumpy ride in the Mako. For reasons she would rather not learn, Urdnot Wrex claimed he had enough expertise with the vehicle to drive it through treacherous terrain.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Kaidan exclaimed as the krogan installed himself in the driver's seat.

"Heh. Watching you flail about was too much fun."

"I had to hold the manual in one hand while steering! While avoiding lava!"

"As I said, fun."

When the _Normandy_ passed over the general area of operations, Joker released the Mako and Wrex instantly floored it.

"You see," he said as both Ashley and Kaidan yelled for him to hit the thrusters, "You can get a solid boost of you nail that sweet spot."

At the very last moment, done so deliberately that it could have only been done on purpose, Wrex activated the thrusters. Garrus yelped with surprise as his helmet slammed against the vehicle's roof. Shepard swore she heard the old krogan chuckle, but she couldn't be certain, as he immediately put the pedal to the metal and sent the Mako racing towards their objective.

"C-Commander?" Liara asked as the Mako swerved to the right, "Could I ask you a question?"

"Certainly," replied Shepard. "Shoot."

Liara looked confused. "I…err, shoot what?"

"'Tis a human saying. Ask your questions."

"Ah, right! What is an 'ODST'?"

Lillim narrowed her eyes and met the young asari's eyes. "Where did you learn that word?"

Jenkins started whistling, suddenly taking a great interest in the texture of the floor.

She sighed. _Of course_. "Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, or Helljumpers, are humanity's Special Forces. We performed small-scale, high-risk operations. Every team has their own specialization."

"Oh, like the salarian STG?" Asked Liara.

"…yes," said Shepard, not too keen on talking about her Helljumper past.

"Yeah, only if the salarians shot their operators from orbit with nothing more than a steel coffin!" Garrus then said, enthusiastically gesturing with his hands. "ODST's are all volunteers, because you have to be crazy to want to drop like that!"

Shepard glared at him.

"Uhh…no offense, Commander," Garrus quickly said, putting his hands up.

"Just get us to the main camp." Heavens, she did not like the way Wrex chuckled.

Eventually, the sight of several prefabricated buildings greeted them. Several of them were damaged, but the largest one seemed relatively intact. The team exited the Mako, keeping their heads on a swivel.

"Garrus, Ashley, clear the main building. Tali, follow them inside. See if you can find anything to hack. The rest of you, stay sharp."

Her team followed her orders perfectly. Garrus opened the door and Ashley rushed inside, closely followed by Tali. Wrex and Kaidan kept their weapons trained on the lanes of approach. Liara, uncertain of what to do, did the same with her pistol.

Eventually, Garrus poked his head from around the corner. "It's clear Commander. Tali found a couple of logs; the survey team found some sort of artefact."

"Shaped like a ring?" Said Wrex. He chuckled at his own joke.

"Uhh…no?" Garrus uncertainly replied. "They found it in the mountain, a few hundred meters away."

Mountains? Lillim could see some sort of mining entrance towards the north, but when she laid eyes upon its structure, she was struck by a sudden feeling of apprehension. Even when Wrex stunt drove them towards the entrance, that feeling did not change.

Something was off about this mission. She had to keep her eyes open.

"Hmm…" Wrex peered down the tunnel that led to a cave deep within the mountain. "Got a bad feeling about this."

"Not scared, are you?" Lillim replied with a little smile.

Wrex glanced at her. "'Course not."

"Well, how about you take point then?"

The krogan grumbled under his breath and moved deeper into the tunnel. About halfway through, he looked at his assault rifle and promptly pulled out his shotgun instead.

Shepard couldn't blame him. The floor was submerged by water, which meant that the sound of every droplet that fell from the ceiling sounded like a potential enemy creeping towards their position. Worse, there were supply crates scattered throughout every room, but there wasn't anyone around to make use of them. The mixture of odors permuting the cave did not help at all either; the smell of cold stone dominated, but there was a strong hint of moisture, as well as something more sickening.

"Something's off. Where are all the bodies?" Jenkins eventually asked.

"Now you are asking the right questions," Lillim quietly replied. "Someone should have spotted us by now."

"What do you think happened to the researchers?" Tali asked.

"They could be hiding somewhere?" Said Kaidan,

Ashley scoffed. "Come on. Do you really believe that? Those eggheads are probably dead already."

Lillim saw Tali flinch at the soldier's words. "Williams, we don't know that. Dead or alive, we are getting those people out of here. Do you understand that?"

Williams worked her jaw, then cast her eyes to the ground. "Yes Commander."

"See to it that you do. Kaidan, get the next door."

"Yes Commander!"

The Biotic pressed the button and the circular opened. It revealed a much larger room, it too covered in a whole foot of water. Waiting on the other end of the room was a mob of dead people, staying upright only by virtue of the cables and implants that pulsated with a sickly blue color. Their gaping, distorted mouths were filled with cables that connected to various places in their chests.

Liara and Tali screamed, Garrus cried out in surprise and everybody opened fire on the horde of shambling, horrifying monstrosities.

Shepard whipped out her SMG's and unleashed a storm of metal on the small mob, targeting their knees with the caseless rounds. Cybernetically enhanced or not, these Husks were no less impervious to her weapons than those on Eden Prime were. The creatures fell over each other, setting them up for a well-thrown grenade by Jenkins.

The HE grenade detonated with a loud crack. The living corpses were scattered all over. Those that survived were easily put down by the rest of the squad.

"Goddess! What are these things? Were those _humans_?" Asked Liara.

"Not anymore," said Wrex as he put another shotgun round into the closest Husk.

Lillim averted her eyes. By no means was the first time she stood among a field of the dead. But she had to admit, the aftermath of this engagement was grizzly even by her standards. She couldn't imagine how horrifying this must have been for Liara, or Tali, neither of whom had the mentality or experience to shrug off sights like these.

"Liara, you and Kaidan take the left tunnel. Garrus, take Tali and clear the one to the right. The rest of you will help me do a headcount. I believe we have found our scientists…"

A quick count of the bodies confirmed her suspicions. The scientists were dead. The lack of a geth presence could only mean one thing: there were artefacts here that turned these poor people into abominations.

When Kaidan contacted her with the report he probably found the origin of the Husks, her suspicions were confirmed.

"More geth spikes," Kaidan explained when Shepard joined him in yet another cave with even more ankle-deep water. "Three of them. I'm guessing these are the artefacts the scientists found."

"And look," said Liara, still looking a bit pale. "Those supports! They've been driven into the stone."

She was right. The tripods were buried deeply into the stone. "Then they must have been here for a long time," said Shepard. She contacted Tali over the Comm. "Tali? Could you come towards Kaidan's position? We need you."

Liara knelt next to the device, rapidly typing commands into her omni-tool. "These rocks were cut by lasers…the researchers must have been trying to dig them up!"

"These are the artefacts mentioned by the team," mused the Elder Devil. "They were buried in rock? Liara, can you see how old this rock is?"

The asari remained silent for half a minute. When she next spoke, she sounded uncertain. "According to my scans, these rocks are older than the war between the quarians and the geth…that can't be right."

Lillim placed a hand on Liara's shoulder. "It seems these devices are not created by the geth. Tali? Your input?"

The quarian, having just arrived at their location, nervously shifted her weight form one leg to another. "Well, during the Morning War, he geth salvaged and used technology not of their own. It's certainly possible."

"So if the geth didn't built this…who did?" Kaidan vocalized their thoughts.

"The Reapers shall usher in the return of the Goddess…" Whispered Lillim. What was Desolas doing?

~0~


	19. 2,8: Daily life with making enemies

**AN:** _another chapter, another slow advance on the romance department._

~0~

 **13:12 Hours, January 28th, (Military _Calendar_ ) / Terminus Systems, onboard asari Frigate [EXPUNGED]**

The small buzz of an electric pulse shot through Agent Venom's wrist and he opened his eyes, gently pulled out of his sleep. His Tactical Datapad, or TACPAD, had been set to wake him after precisely six hours had passed.

He took a few deep breaths. The air was stale and dry inside of the ventilation shaft where he spent the last six hours. He flexed his hands to get his blood flowing again, even though they were enclosed snugly in his gauntlets.

His shoulders were sore. He had pulled himself up into the cramped tube after stowing away on an asari Frigate; it was cramped and hot, but his custom-designed Stealth Uniform kept him comfortable. It was a form-fitting, lightweight body armor that could deflect a small-caliber round or mass accelerator projectile from a reasonable distance away. The refrigeration/heating unit not only allowed him to perfectly regulate his temperature, but it also made him effectively invisible to most forms of scanning used in the Citadel Theatre.

The Agent crawled further along the shaft and made the right turn he knew would be coming after a few yards. He moved another few meters then quietly shimmied down a vertical drop for ten feet. His TACPAD showed him the way; one more turn to the left and then he'd be in the Captain's personal quarters.

It seemed even asari warships had the basic designs done right; a ventilation shaft awaited him just up ahead. He peered through it to make sure the Matron wasn't there. Then, he carefully pried the grid loose. He didn't drop it down yet; he didn't want to cause noise at this point.

He wormed his upper body out of the shaft and gently lowered the grill on a chair directly below him. He then clutched the bottom of the shaft opening, rolled his lower back and hips out and summersaulted onto the floor.

So far, so good.

A wanted war-criminal like Desolas Arterius wasn't supposed to have access to the kind of gear he had. Someone was supplying him with equipment, weapons and above all, credits. A joint-investigation between the salarian STG and humanity's ONI resulted in a trail that led directly into the Terminus Systems. It was that trail that led Agent Venom onboard an asari warship filled with mercenaries and arms dealers.

Tracking down those sources was the best way to close the pipeline to Arterius. If they couldn't track down the General himself, at least they could render him harmless.

Heading straight for the computer on the Captain's desk and booted it up. _Of course_ the fancy asarai technology took its sweet time to power up. He anxiously eyed the dark hallway behind him as the console activated. When it asked for a password, he dug into his armored rucksack. He retrieved a datapad with the latest translation matrices and intrusion software, courtesy of the brilliant Cortana AI model. Agent Carolina assured him that it would work and sure enough, it did.

He searched through the console's files until he found the ones he wanted. They were files of payoff records to various organizations and individuals.

Venom tapped a command into the datapad and began to copy the files onto the device. It only took a couple of seconds.

As he waited, Venom thought back to his last mission, where he and Agent Hunter successfully retrieved General Levitcus' body. The turian General was responsible for the assault on Shanxi. He explained that he didn't intent for that to happen. Someone ordered him to do it, someone even higher in their hierarchy than Arterius. Right after revealing that, he committed suicide.

 _Nobody can protect me anymore. Take what you need from my body._

And ONI had. They hadn't shared their findings with the Agents yet, but Venom was certain that their Boss would share it with them when the time came.

The datapad finished the transfer, but just as the Agent broke the link, he heard noise right outside the office.

 _Shit._

The holographic lock on the door changed from red to green. It made a noise to signal that it was now unlocked and then soundlessly slid open.

There was no time to get back inside the ventilation shaft. Before anyone could enter, he powered down the terminal and leapt away from the desk. He scampered up a set of cabinets and pressed himself against the corner, his head pressing against the ceiling. It was an uncomfortable position to keep; he had to use his knee to press down against the cabinet, while at the same time pushing his arms against the two walls in the corner to keep himself in place.

Right as he got into position, two asari wandered into the office. They hadn't noticed him, as they were too engrossed by each other. They held each other's hands as they darted inside, then hurried to close the door behind them.

Venom recognized the first one as the Matron in charge of this vessel. The other, he had no idea. He just hoped they wouldn't notice him sitting up on the corner. His Stealth Suit could keep him concealed to a reasonable degree, but it wasn't perfect. It allowed him to blend in with his environment, but without any darkness or shadows to hide him, it was far from perfect.

It seemed that the two alien women only had eyes for each other. They only activated the lamp by the Captain's bed, excitedly talking about "stress relief" and "easing tension".

Venom, assuming they were preparing for an impromptu sparring session, mentally practiced drawing his M6C/SOCOM. It was a semi-automatic pistol, informally called the Automag, with an integrated suppressor and muzzle brake. It could punch through solid body armor when fired from close range and wouldn't alarm anything other than a Kig-Yar.

He hoped the two asari would simply pack their training gear and relocate to the gym. He knew this vessel had one. If they were to start warming up in here, the Biotic residue might give him away. Asari were rather sensitive to the presence of other lifeforms, especially those from the UNSC Theatre. There were plenty of scientific dossiers explaining why, but for the moment, Venom didn't even want to think about that.

One of the asari sat down on the bed while the other checked something on her datapad. Then…what the hell? The Matron – bloodthirsty mercenary, Captain of a crew that left no witnesses – began undressing.

The other asari smiled, put away her datapad and walked to the side of the bed, directly facing the corner where Venom was hiding. All she had to do was glance up and she'd see him for sure.

Thankfully, the increasingly-bare frame of the Captain kept her preoccupied. They weren't seriously about to-?

Now the other asari started undressing, too.

Venom sighed and rolled with his eyes. Most of the Vulpes Agents were recruited from the victims of the batarian attack on Mindoir, from a very early age. Hunter included. All they ever seemed to think about was fighting, killing and not getting killed. They got their kicks from the things they did on the battlefield. Most of the time, that didn't include sex. If it did…well, there were no officials around to condemn it.

Venom, unfortunately, was quite a bit older when he got "recruited" from Tribute in 2539. He had a decent understanding of what was about to happen. He almost wished the aliens spotted him instead.

The seconds ticked by and the Agent became increasingly uncomfortable. He had to find a way to exfiltrate and fast. A UNSC warship stood by to get him out of there, but it would take the vessel a few hours to get to him. He preferred not to end another mission with a mass shootout. ONI wanted this mission done delicately.

Venom was starting to feel his muscles burn. No amount of biomechanical augmentations could help you if you were stuck in an unnatural position.

The good news was that the asari were too busy to notice him. The bad news was that they were too busy to notice him. The air was thick with Biotic energy and he was starting to feel dizzy. Exposure to dark energy fields was never good for the body.

For crying out loud, things were starting to levitate now. Just his luck; the Matron getting her kicks was one of those violently unstable types. She cried out and flung her arm towards his direction. The cabinet got knocked sideways and Venom was noisily thrown to the ground.

Time almost stood still as the two females broke their eye contact and gazed at his direction. Venom immediately shoved off the floor and landed amidst the two shocked alien females. Normal close quarters rules for the Vulpes Agents and all of their derivatives wasn't so much martial arts as it was a no-holds-barred system for survival in dangerous situations. It wasn't meant to be flashy or competitive; it was meant to straight-up mess an attacker up and immobilize him as soon as possible.

But right now, he didn't think that was necessary. His leg snapped out and his foot caught the Matron against the side of her head before she could erect a barrier. Then, he shifted his weight and threw a jab at the other asari's exposed throat. She too had been unable to conjure up a barrier in time and reared back, coughing and wheezing.

Another punch served to shut her up. The two aliens down, Venom listened intently for any sound of an alarm.

Nothing. He managed to incapacitate them just in time.

With the coast moderately clear, the Agent sat down amongst the two undressed and unmoving aliens and accessed the data he just copied. It was the data stolen from the salarian genetics lab that was raided a couple of weeks ago, as well as the data from a turian genebank. Even worse; these mercenaries just raided an asari research facility as well. According to the shipping list, this Frigate carried enough biological material to augment an entire division.

What for? Obviously these thugs wouldn't augment their own troops. They weren't selling it to the highest bidder, either. They were going to deposit this to Desolas for free, according to their financial tables.

One phrase in particular caught Venom's attention. He skimmed the other files, each one mentioning "sister ships".

Son of a bitch. Apparently, the data they stole during their raids was important enough to copy send to other ships supplying Desolas Arterius as well. What the hell was he up to?

Either way, he couldn't afford to hang around now. Whether he killed those asari or not wouldn't matter anymore. Someone would eventually miss them, and then the alarm would be sounded. Better strike now, while he still had the element of surprise.

The Frigate had a standard complement, most of them paid-off eclipse mercenaries. Venom grabbed the beacon he had been issued with, pressed the button that would alert the UNSC that he completed the mission and then lobbed it into the ventilation shaft above him. Then, he shouldered his M7S SMG and started moving.

The first hallway he entered was already populated. A pair of asari were patrolling there, oblivious to his presence.

Agent Venom had long ago learned that the sacred Laws and Customs of War could no longer be adhered to when it came to an enemy eager on exterminating all of humanity. There was no doubt what General Arterius would do once he got his hands on the Conduit. With that in mind, he began his grim task. He sighted in on the two alien women and put them down with short, almost imperceptible bursts of fire.

The caseless Full Metal Jacket rounds were designed to tear through Elites and Brutes. When applied to hostiles with a more human physique, the results were horrid.

Venom recalled a dark night when Templars boarded a hospital ran by an Arachne Clan affiliated with the Black Fang. They had been outfitted with special anti-personnel ammunition too. Sometimes, he doubted whether the UNSC's insistence on ignoring the laws of war would end up hurting them in the long run. So far, the turian Hierarchy turned a blind eye to all of their crimes, but that couldn't last forever.

Designation Purple was still active during all of the UNSC's engagements, even though the Human-Covenant war was still over. To many, it showed how staunch and unyielding the UNSC had become. Venom knew better. To him, it was the action of a traumatized, broken nation.

He rounded the corridor and nearly bumped headfirst into a turian. The alien's eyes widened with surprise and he pulled a pistol out of his holster, but Venom leapt at the corridor wall, bounced off of it by kicking with the soles of his boots and propelled himself into him.

The turian tumbled back as the Agent landed gracefully on his fingertips, then jackknifed in the air to get back to his feet. He kicked the alien against the side of his head to knock him out, then moved onwards.

In a contained area like an enemy warship, once you had the advantage in cyberwarfare, it was relatively easy to clear it out. Not only was this ship a wealth of information for the UNSC, it could also be repurposed and pressed into a recon Flotilla against the Batarian Hegemony. He just had to take care of the crew first. ONI preferred them alive, so they outfitted him with multiple non-lethal weapons for takedowns.

Once he reached the bridge, he placed a breaching charge on the door and loaded his SMG with stun ammunition. They were loaded with a small electrical charge, delivering powerful shocks when striking their targets. It would preoccupy a combatant long enough to put him down with other means.

The breaching charge, on the complete opposite of the spectrum, was as lethal as it could get. A long string of C14 placed in circular patterns around a single clamp could and would blow a solid metal door and mess up anyone standing too close to the point of detonation. When a training mission went south because of a sudden Covenant assault in the training base, Agent Carolina had saved his life by timely breaching the wall right next to a flexing Zealot. The sword-wielding alien was no match for the shock and awe tactics of the UNSC Marine Corps…

Venom activated the charge and was rewarded with a hole the size of a warthog that led right into the cockpit of the asari Frigate.

Five crewmembers struggled to get to their feet, bleeding and battered. Venom put them down with long, sustained bursts of stun rounds, then rushed in to immobilize them with CQC.

Hunter once said that there was no sport in fighting enemies who couldn't fight back. As he broke the jaw of an asari Eclipse commando who couldn't quite muster an effective Warp attack, he wondered about that. It was nice to finally fight an enemy that couldn't break reality in some manner.

He supposed it didn't matter either way. The last of the bridge crew slammed to the deck, bleeding, and Venom plugged his datapad into the first console he saw to plunder whatever data was left on this vessel.

Who would have thought that outlawing AI's would severely damper a species' ability to develop proper cyberwarfare countermeasures? This ship's software was no match for the intrusion algorithms ONI had developed. Within seconds, Agent Venom possessed all the information that the crew of the Frigate once possessed.

One particular piece of information caught his interest, however. He clicked on the file and opened it.

 _On the Beings of Light._

 _Klencory is completely secure now. The excavation teams are still searching for the lost crypts of the beings of light. The head of the research would like to issue you one final warning; do NOT ask about the purpose of the research again. Your team of mercenaries can be easily replaced, and taking care of loose ends is one of our specialties._

 _You are to arrive within the system within two weeks. You will receive your payment, as well as your next orders, upon your arrival._

Venom frowned. _Beings of Light?_ He felt like he heard that before.

The rest looked equally disturbing. He copied the files from the consoles in the bridge as well. It looked like ONI would have to send a couple of Agents to Klencory.

~0~

 **18:17 Hours, January 28th, (Military _Calendar_ ) / Serpent Nebula, Citadel**

Now that their funding was pretty much based on how much they could loot from their dead enemies, the Master Chief had to rethink his tactics. His hardware was pretty much limited to rifles and grenades. They didn't have breaching charges, no high explosives, no anti-tank weapons and no unmanned vehicles. Rescuing a hostage from a slave circle like that would be difficult, even for him.

He glanced down at his omni-tool, which had lit up in a tasteful shade of blue. According to Cortana, Marine reinforcements arrived on the Citadel a couple of hours ago. They were waiting at the bottom of C-Sec Academy, which meant another long elevator trip down from the market.

The Chief didn't mind going to C-Sec Academy, fortunately. The place was mostly run by turians and he had to admit that he liked the turians. Well, he liked them about as much as he liked any alien. Basically, he didn't _hate_ them. They were honorable, honest and valued military traditions. Apart from their shaky start during the attack on Shanxi, they never failed to stand by the UNSC's side. Many thousands of turian soldiers had died defending mankind against the Covenant and for that alone, the Chief was willing to give them a chance.

The lobby was still as busy as the last time he passed through it. Officers walked around, wielding a large assortment of weapons and gear. It just now occurred to the Chief that there was a solid reason why C-Sec agents were so heavily armed. The Citadel was apparently easily accessible for all kinds of people, krogan included. Not only that, the police force had to be ready for sudden incursions by the Covenant.

To the far right of the elevator, two female turian agents were keeping a pair of UNSC Marines in custody. One of them was a stern-looking Sergeant with a scar under his left eye, and the other was a young Marine who just couldn't keep his problems under control.

"Anytime you want, I'm right here mate!" He yelled while one of the turians tried to wrestle him into a pair of omni-cuffs. "Over here!"

"You have the right to remain silent!" Cried the turian. "I suggest you exercise it!"

To the far left of the elevator, a turian, a Centaur and a Long-Legs Arachne wrestled down a krogan who seemed to take the Marine's insults very seriously.

"You say that to my face, pyjak! Say that to my face and I will rip your head off!"

The Master Chief supposed that these were his men. However, it looked like they were in a bit of a bind.

He approached the turian officer. She saw him coming and instantly snapped to attention. It was impressive, seeing as she was still holding on to the thrashing Marine. "Spartan on deck!" She exclaimed.

"Master Chief!" Yelled Sergeant Stacker. "Good to see you, Chief!"

"Hell of a timing Chief!" The young Private fell in.

The Spartan nodded approvingly. He didn't care what trouble these men got themselves into on the Citadel, they were tough, dependable soldiers. They survived the last, hellish year of the Human-Covenant war, up to and including the Battle of the Ark. They fought by his side time and time again, proving their competence in many fields.

He was glad to have them serve in his crew. "Relax officer," he calmly said. "Master Chief Spartan one-one-seven, Spectre candidate. These soldiers are to be part of my new crew."

The turian to the left scowled. "Seriously? I mean, I'd love to assist you Master Chief, but…"

The other female interrupted her. "He's a Spartan, as well as a Spectre candidate. He doesn't need to show all that paperwork."

"Fine," sighed the first turian. "We'll file an official complaint to the UNSC about those two, but can take them, sir."

The Chief nodded, glad that they understood. Of all the species on the Citadel, turians never caused much trouble. It was a good thing that some things never changed.

"Master Chief!" Yelled Sergeant Stacker. "It's good to see you, Chief!"

"Excellent timing sir!" Added Private Dubbo. "Ready when you are!"

The C-Sec officers undid their omni-cuffs. Now free from their bindings, the two Marines flexed their shoulders and glanced at each other with relief.

"The ship is docked nearby. Cortana will guide you there. My second-in-command will debrief you," Explained the Chief. He glanced at the krogan, which seemed to be extraordinarily pissed that it wasn't getting someone to bail it out as well. "Under no circumstances are you to engage with other aliens."

The two saluted him.

"You heard the Chief," said Stacker. "Move like you've got a purpose!"

Together, the two Marines ran to the elevator. The Chief watched them leave, slowly shaking his head. He hoped they made it out of the war with all their qualities intact. Getting into trouble on the Citadel wasn't the most glamorous start a soldier could ask for.

With the rest of his tasks for the day complete, the Spartan returned to the _Reach._ The majority of his team was still hanging out on the Citadel, tending to their own business. The ship's logs showed that Draco was still inside, as well as Sergeant Stacker and Private Dubbo.

Interestingly enough, Rachnera never left the Destroyer to begin with. Miia had taken Kyuri and left the ship together with her, likely to show her the Citadel. It struck the Chief how most people never got to see the prestigious center of the galactic community. Kyuri was technically still a civilian, she never saw what the Citadel looked like.

Well, he hoped she had a good time. She could use a motivational boost.

He marched through the airlock, waited until the decontamination procedure finished and allowed himself a little smile as Cortana waved him through.

"Welcome back Chief," she cheerfully said. "Should I inform the team that they are to return to the _Reach_?"

"You are being awfully cheerful," he replied.

"You know what's it like to finally have a new mission, don't you? And it's a rescue mission to boot!"

The Spartan halted. "Alright, what's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Cortana projected her avatar from one of the many holographic projectors littered throughout the vessel. She brought her hand to her lips in mock shock. "I don't get how something could be wrong! You're being duped by the very first woman to blink at you prettily, all because you can't let go of the idea that you're still a soldier instead of a Spectre."

The asari had been lying? "How do you know she was faking it?"

Cortana narrowed her eyes and placed her hands on her hips in manner perfectly reflecting her frustration with him. It was a telling gesture. "I'm an AI, Chief. I can scan expressions better than any cold-reader out there. I can measure chemical imbalances and bodily reactions faster than any lie detector in the modern universe. And I say she was lying to you. Whatever she is, Dahlia Dantius is not a hostage."

The Chief worked his jaw. _You're a bleeding heart, John,_ he could basically hear Kelly yell at him. It was a sobering experience; even after an all-consuming war, people would still try to manipulate him. "I thought something wasn't right. What would you suggest?"

"That you learn from this experience! Even if you still think you're doing a soldier's job, the world now sees you as a Spectre. People never tried to manipulate you before, now look at them!"

She was, of course, right. The worst thing was that Cortana _knew_ she was right. "We're changing the mission. There's still a pirate outpost in there, and this team needs to be properly equipped."

Cortana smiled. "So privateering we go! That's the spirit. I'm rerouting the team now."

Knowing that he might have a long time waiting ahead, the Master Chief quickly categorized what needed to be done for the mission and then ordered Stacker and Dubbo to get themselves familiarized with the ship. He needed them to know the _Reach_ inside and out.

About half an later, the team was complete again. The Chief headed up to the bridge next. The elevator took him to the circular center of the _Bridge,_ where the non-combatant section of his crew normally spent their time. He spotted Keyes sitting on his chair, reading something on a datapad.

Though the Chief moved with the trademark silence of a Spartan, Captain Keyes still realized that he had a visitor. He glanced up from his datpad and saw him approach.

He got up from his chair and called, "Spectre on the deck."

It wasn't strictly according to regulations, especially since he was the only Commissioned Officer aboard the ship. The Chief frowned, disapproving of the message it sent. Keyes had to _know_ that.

"At ease," he said, raising his voice so the junior officers heard him as well. Dominique and Hal were sitting at a table, playing poker against Free and Jones. Judging by the strange and rather loud noises the latter two made, it wasn't going well for them.

"You didn't visit the Citadel?" Asked the Chief, joining the Captain in the center of the bridge.

The Captain smiled bitterly. "It'll be a while before any of us can comfortably visit an alien station again, Chief. Better to say here, in an environment we know."

John nodded, understanding perfectly. Halo took their toll on everyone. "Of course. If there is anything you or the crew need, just ask."

"Thank you, Chief," Keyes said, his voice warm. "But hell, I know you're busy, son. I've read the logs in the Codex. Just say the word and we'll head for the Artemis Tau Cluster next. "

It didn't surprise the Chief at all that Cortana already updated the ship's logs. She liked to keep herself busy after all. "As soon as you're ready."

Keyes smiled. "Of course Chief. Best speed away. We'll hit the Mass Relay and enter Slipspace to cross the rest of the journey."

The Master Chief nodded, then headed back to the elevator. Calculating the time it would take to traverse a certain distance when using Mass Relays was always a bit tricky. From the Serpent Nebula, the _Reach_ would head through the Exodus Cluster to the Hades Gamma Cluster, before arriving within the Artemis Tau cluster. Basic Slipspace travel would reduce the intermittent distances to a few hours. At most, the _Reach_ would be about thirteen to fifteen hours underway.

Though Mass Relay jumps were often regarded as instantaneous FTL travel, the reality wasn't nearly so convenient. Normal citizen ships had to wait in line for their vessels to connect to the Relay and even then, they had to calibrate their weight, vector and destination, before waiting for the Relay to charge. Military vessels had the priority and Spectre ships were always granted the first access.

Thinking about that, the Chief supposed he was lucky that it wouldn't take the ship longer than that. Still, he wondered if it wouldn't be better to be Cryogenically frozen during those long hours.

Unfortunately, that was not an option. In case the _Reach_ came under enemy attack, or had to drop out of Slipspace to answer an emergency call, he needed to be there to direct the team.

Yet another aspect of Spectre-hood that didn't sat right with him.

He felt the ship shudder once as the magnetic clamps released them, then the Chief felt her accelerate away from the docks. Before soon, she hit the Mass Relay and was underway.

He decided to pay Chrome another visit. According to the log, she hadn't left the medical bay at all since they first recruited her, which was strange. She had all the time in the world to make herself familiar with the Citadel, the only evidence she claimed she needed, but she hadn't taken that time.

It was strange, and the Chief planned on finding out what her reasons were.

At least there were surprises this time around. He found the little succubus pacing back and forth in the medical bay, just like she was supposed to be. She had two Petri dishes stood on a small desk, one of which contained a squirt of what was hopefully biofoam. That would make the other Petri dish, hopefully, filled with Medi-gel.

The double set of glass doors soundlessly slid open and the Spartan entered the medical bay, curiously eying Chrome's work. He spotted charts, discarded papers and a datapad that had a large scratch running down the center, stopping somewhere in the middle of the screen.

"Ah, there you are young man!" Chrome snapped upon seeing him. "You have a lot of explaining to do!"

The Chief cocked his head sideways, puzzled. "Young man?"

"Oh, don't take that personally," she said dismissively. She gestured with her hand, which suddenly held three large syringes filled with colored liquids. "When were you planning on telling me about your body?"

"That would be classified," he dryly replied.

Chrome raised a dark eyebrow. "Oh really? You _did_ recruit me to be your doctor, didn't you? What if you need surgery?"

The Master Chief tensed. _Surgery._

Something akin to fear brewed within a small, suppressed corner of his mind. When John heard _surgery_ he saw Spartans writhing on their beds as they were augmented, their bodies twisted and broken, their lungs filling with liquid as they fruitlessly rasped for air…

He took a deep breath. Not the time or the place.

Chrome's magenta eyes narrowed. "I'm not stupid, you know. My family has been in this business for a very long time!" She dramatically pointed a finger at his chest. "You are much too tall to be a descendent of human evolutionary history! Not with that musculature your suit hides, anyway. I've read up on your medical history, as much as that stupid black ink could let me read. Every injury under the sun, but broken bones are surprisingly rare. Human soldiers not breaking bones? Get out of here! That means your bones must be reinforced, which means your muscles are also reinforced!"

The Master Chief's eyebrow twitched. This was the first time anyone confronted him with his augmentations like that, ever. "I won't be requiring surgery," he settled for saying.

Chrome stared at him, fuming, before suddenly darting towards one of the tables and pulling out another datapad, this one without any damage on it. "Oh really? One of the last major fights you had saw your thoracic plate _cracked_. I don't even want to imagine what sort of magic can do that, but according to these files, the result was nasty."

John worked his jaw. The impact of a Forerunner energy weapon had been powerful enough to throw him several meters away. When the Monitor struck him, something had ruptured inside of his body. Only the heat-resistant titanium and extra layers of the diffusing armoured suit beneath had saved him. Well, that and Johnson's timely alpha strike.

"How did you get these files?" Asked the Chief. He was fairly certain he knew how.

"Your artificial friend gave me them!" Chrome smugly replied. "She said that, if I wanted to put you back together again, I needed to know as much as I was allowed."

As much as he wanted to disagree with her on that, he couldn't. He was well aware of the limitations of the Spartans. After Sam went MIA, he strove to never again lose another one of his brothers and sisters again. One of the few missions he never succeeded on.

He ran his gaze down the little necromancer again. He himself passed on the words from Chief Mendez to his team; never trust a succubus. But he never personally encountered a true necromancer before, and on a world completely cut off from society to boot…he was certain that Cortana could restrain her if she proved untrustworthy.

"Very well," he eventually said. "How are you settling in? Do you need anything?"

"Tissue samples!" She immediately replied. "I need more tissue samples! The genetic variety from these new species is astounding! I never knew a community could grow this big! A thousand worlds, a hundred billion people – this is going to be so much _fun!"_

"Don't forget about the genocidal alien," reminded the Chief. "All these billions of people will die if he gets what he wants."

Her excited expression instantly grew skeptical. "Yes, I've been meaning to speak to you about that. What about his plans make you think this…General person wants to kill everyone? If the community is as big as you say it is, doesn't that make it really hard to kill everyone?"

"That's classified on a need-to-know basis," replied the Chief. "Rest assured, history proves that it's surprisingly easy. Ask Cortana if you need anything."

"Sure will," she said, before turning back to her little experiment with the biofoam and the medi-gel.

The Spartan simply stared at her setup, before deciding that it wasn't worth the trouble. Instead, he paged Kyuri on her newly outfitted omni-tool and asked if she was up for some target practice.

She was. Good.

Within half an hour, the Spartan designated a section of the hangar bay as a temporary firing range, set up holographic targets with range computers linked to their bases and set up wide array of weapons. Captain Rawley, previously known as Echo 419, watched him work. She leant back against the frame of her dropship and crossed her arms. "Gee Chief, are you taking a girl out for a date?" She asked.

The Chief was familiar with that term. He didn't know how it could apply in the current situation. His guess? The woman was messing with him. _Humor_.

"Not a date, instructions on how to care for and operate firearms," he replied.

"For the Vampire, right?"

"Yes," he replied, placing an M6B Magnum on the counter. The A's and B's series of the M6 were known for their relative ease and comfort when it came to handling. What better training pistol for a civilian than a pistol issued to civilian security forces?

"So it is a date," Foehammer continued, smiling wryly.

"Don't you have an autocannon to calibrate?"

"Nah. Cortana helped me install a turian software program to do that for me. AutoCalibrations, I believe. My bird is good to go, Chief. Question is, is yours?"

The elevator doors opened and Kyuri tentatively stepped on the deck. She was outfitted with a repurposed Marine BDU. It had been stripped down and uparmoured to accommodate for her wings and protect her vulnerable bones. However, even with the protective combat uniform, she still looked petite and vulnerable.

But that was alright. The Chief didn't require that every member of his team could shout or state down a charging krogan. Besides; the Nightfall ODST BDU's he ordered would arrive on the Citadel in a week. He'd like to see how Kyuri operated in one of those suits.

He nodded at her. "I've readied the shooting range. Grab some protection – "

Foehammer snickered.

" – and we'll begin with training rounds." He pointedly ignored the pilot and showed his trainee a magazine of TTR's, or Tactical Training Rounds. Not many fond memories there. "These will be used to simulate live-fire exercises."

"We're not using real bullets?" She asked, her demeanor turning more relaxed in an instant.

"Not yet," replied the Chief. "Learning how to handle a pistol is easy. You'll have the hang of it in a day."

"A day?" She asked, surprised. "That soon?"

He handed her the magazine. "First, you need to know how to operate it. You begin by loading it…"

The Master Chief spent the next hour showing his teammember how to handle, load and discharge the M6B. The first few times she fired it, the recoil sent her stumbling backwards. After that, she managed to keep a hold on the weapon, but a piece of burning brass flew dangerously close to her face, searing a few strands of her hair.

But she didn't complain, and he appreciated that.

He eyed her stance and identified several key mistakes. He gently prodded at her clawed feet with his boots, widening her stance. Then, he stepped behind her and softly took hold of her wrists, helping her keep her weapon steady.

The next couple of shots went a lot easier for her. She didn't score headshots or bullseyes, but at least she didn't splatter the bulkhead with paint anymore.

Every time she pulled the trigger, her slender wrists trembled. Her smooth, long fingers didn't have a lot of strength in them.

The exercise seemed to thrill her; a healthy blush appeared on her pale visage. It was good to see she enjoyed herself.

"You're getting the hang of this," said the Chief.

"It's fun!" She replied, smiling. "I never held a weapon in my life…I've seen the movies, but I didn't think it was this easy."

"This is just the first part. After this, there will be SMG training, automatic rifles and semi-automatics as well."

She was thoughtful for a moment. "Then, what about athletics and physical training?"

John stared at her, surprised. "Do you think you're ready for that?"

She nodded firmly. "I didn't realize how important your mission was until we were ambushed by those Templars. I want to be as capable as your other friends."

"Friends?" The Chief cocked his head. Cortana? But that was friend. She meant friends, plural.

"Miia and Dracosa! And the turian Spectre, Saren?" She asked, apparently perturbed by his surprise.

"Those aren't friends. They're…teammembers."

She frowned. Then, she dropped a bombshell on him. "But…you're the greatest hero humanity ever had. Where are your friends, if not here?"

"I…" He heard his voice trail off. Who _did_ he count as his friends? He had Cortana. There was Avery Johnson. There was even the Arbiter, but…

 _I don't know. ._

"I think we should leave it here," he carefully said. "We'll continue after the coming mission."

Perhaps she sensed that this was a subject he wasn't comfortable around. Perhaps she didn't, and she was just content with following his guidance. Whatever it was, she didn't protest, but instead flashing him the least accurate UNSC salute he ever saw.

Still, he appreciated the gesture. He reached out and carefully placed her hand where it was supposed to go.

"Oh…" she said. "I thought I had it right…"

He nodded at her, then started clearing up the impromptu firing range again. Kyuri left him alone, for which he was also thankful.

He saw Foehammer stare at him from the corner of his eye. He ignored her. There was a time and a place. This was neither. Besides; it wasn't her place to comment on it and knowing Foehammer, she knew that as well.

John struggled to banish the thought of his fellow Spartans to the back of his mind and focused on the task ahead.

~0~

 **Unidentified village / unidentified planet / unidentified system**

 **Unidentified time**

Avery stood in the center of the inn, glancing at the people who walked around the lower floor. He felt his gut clench together with every look he caught. So many people. He didn't feel comfortable around all then.

They were all humans. That was what they looked like, at least. Not that it helped. Sylph couldn't find anything weird about them with the _Balmung's_ scanners. She kept a close eye on their behavior and tried to scan the waste products of their chemical transformations, like their metabolism, but with the crude tech of the omni-tool, she couldn't do a whole lot.

Problem was, the UNSC couldn't detect magic with any form of technology yet. Magic beings could, but Avery was not about to bring his Hel teammate onboard yet. Not until she dropped her latest façade.

He kept hearing weird conversations around him. Most of them were centered around this "Monster Lord" like he was the second coming of the Prophet of Truth. His knights kept kicking ass wherever they went and the soldiers were going nuts.

The Sergeant didn't know what to make about that. He trusted Sylph kept her little pixie eyes on the relevant bits and waited until he play his own part.

Finally, it was his turn, and he walked towards the innkeeper. She was an elderly woman, her grey hair tied in a bun behind her head.

"Excuse me miss," started the Sergeant.

"A newcomer?" She said, cutting him off. "No, no, that won't do…"

Johnson cocked an eyebrow. 'Excuse me - "

"Newcomers aren't welcome in our town. You only bring misery and death!"

"I'm only looking for a place to stay overnight - "

Her loud voice attracted the attention of the other patrons. Johnson didn't put it against them to attack him for being a newcomer. He didn't want to hurt any of these strange, old-fashioned villagers, so when the innkeeper persevered in her odd ways, he dropped the issue and left.

His radio crackled. After a few moments, Cerea came through."

" _Sergeant, 'tis dangerous to proceed alone! Thou require immediate reinforcements!"_

"I'm still in one piece, Cerea," replied Avery. "Besides; we don't _have_ any reinforcements."

 _"Then I shall join you on the surface. I will be there momentarily!"_

"Negative Cerea, we can't have that. I'm not through scouting the area yet."

 _"But- "_

Johnson sighed. "Stand by for further orders, soldier. I've got this handled."

" _O-Of course, Sergeant. My deepest pardon for questioning you!"_

She disconnected the channel, leaving the Sergeant to continue on his own. Cerea had done a full one-eighty after rejoining his beloved Corps. Her discipline and loyalty were commendable, but she had to work on her patience.

Sylph quickly found him an abandoned house to spend the night in anyway. He kicked the door open, marched in and dumped his stuff. He didn't even acknowledge the strange Lamia standing in the middle of the room until he moved to place his sleeping bag.

"You're slow," she bit at him.

Avery looked at the girl, then back at his sleeping bag. Then, his brain registered the sight of the Monster Girl. She was that Lamia from before!

"Who am I!" He barked.

"…how the hell would I know?" She dryly replied.

Johnson guessed that was true.

"You're an even bigger idiot than I thought," she then added.

"What are you doing here?" Asked Johnson, eager to change the subject. "This town doesn't seem eager on strangers."

"I was just curious about something."

Johnson crossed his arms. "Uh-huh. And how did you find me then?"

She gave him a little smirk. "By following your unsophisticated scent, of course."

There was such a thing as sophisticated scent? Avery supposed there was. "Right. How did you even get in here, anyway? The folks here don't seem keen on strangers. "

"Please. Humans are easy to trick. Who do you think I am?"

"Haven't got the faintest idea," replied Johnson. All Marines were trained with the Encyclopedia on Liminals. This woman, whoever she was, didn't seem to belong to any of the Lamia subspecies. "But I'm here on an important mission."

"Ho? An important mission? Hah, I'll humor you. What sort of mission?"

"I'm hunting a defected secret agent across the galaxy, avoiding the mighty conspiracy protecting him as I race against the clock to prevent him from unleashing a doomsday weapon. Now I don't care if the enemy's looking for a race of mechanical fish or God's own anti-son-of-a-bitch machine, I'm not going to let him have it! What I _will_ let him have, is the rest of the UNSC's ammo reserves, applied directly to his forehead! Am I _right_ , Marine?"

Sylph manifested from his omni-tool. The little AI snapped off the most badass salute she could and squealed, "Sir yes sir!"

Avery hid his smile behind a mask of steel. She did him _so_ proud…"Damn right I am!"

The Lamia stared at him like he just completely lost his mind. "You are even more of an idiot than I thought," she sighed. "And a savage too, judging by your words. Whether you can back them up, I doubt."

"I'll keep your opinion in mind," replied the Marine.

"Still…to think you could command the power of a Spirit…where did you come from?" She asked.

Spirit? Did she mean Sylph? "That's a long and very interesting story. A shame it's also _classified."_

The Lamia blinked. "Classified?"

"That means secret, numbnuts. Seems like you've missed out on a hell of a lot of things lately."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Enlighten me."

Johnson reached into his pocket, fished out the stubby remains of a cigar and propped that between his lips. "You see, out there's a couple of thousand other worlds like this one, all of them inhabited by alien bastards. Some of them alien bastards are the _bad_ alien bastards. My job is to f*ck them before by god they f*ck us!"

Johnson had a lot of issues he needed to work out before he could even start of functioning in society. Most of the times, he worked out those issues by shouting and cussing. He hadn't heard himself cuss. All was not right in his kingdom. "Sylph? Did you just censor me?"

"Sorry sir!" Yelled the little AI. "We can't be a bad influence on the natives!"

He mulled over her words for a moment. "Fine. Then let me rephrase that…"

"No need," said the Lamia. "You can tell me on the way."

Now hold on for a shotgun-cocking moment…

"On the way to _where_?" Growled the Sergeant. "You weren't showing much faith in our big green cause."

"Hah. I do think you are a complete and utter moron. But…your words have a shade of truth to them. I'm hungry and you got thrown out by the humans you swore to protect, so…"

Johnson thoughtfully chewed on his cigar. He couldn't argue with her on that; he wasn't going to learn anything for the Council down here. He didn't know the lay of the land, but she did. The _Balmung's_ sensors could only do so much.

"As long as you can keep up, fine by me," replied Johnson. "I just need to find whoever's the big cheese around here, then I'm off again."

The girl huffed.

Johnson shot her a curious look. "What's so funny?"

"If you're looking for a leader, you won't find one. This land's at war, little soldier. Monsters and humans are killing each other by the droves every single day."

Avery couldn't suppress his outrage at that. "Lady, we've got an entire galactic community out there coexisting together! Ugly aliens, small aliens, bro-aliens and even not-so-ugly aliens all living at peace these days! Where'd this war come from?"

"I don't care much about what you've got out _there_ ," she pointed at the sky with the tip of her tail, "It's about what's going on down here."

"If you're talkin' about that Monster Lord fella, I guess I can spare some words for him too," replied the Sergeant. "If you've got no choice but to cross the country, kicking the ass of every bad guy you find, then that's what you gotta do! A friend of mine once showed me that."

The image of the Master Chief climbing into a rusty old Scorpion to pursue a Scarab walker through the ruins of a metropolitan city flashed through his mind, and he smiled.

"So you're planning on killing the Monster Lord then?" The Lamia asked, her expression inscrutable.

Johnson shrugged. "Depends."

"On what?"

He killed a lot of people during his life. In this time of age, where there were so few people left, he didn't want to have to kill someone unless it was absolutely necessary. "On whether he's willing to talk or not."

"Hmph. I might as well travel with you to see that. I'm curious to see where you'll end up."

Johnson wasn't so sure. He didn't get where she was coming from; one half of him appreciated the thought of having someone accompany him, but the other half felt like it just picked up a very troublesome guest.

"Why do you even care? You look like you could wander this land by yourself," he argued.

The Lamia sighed. "Who knows? It's been a while since I've met someone as interesting as you. I want to see more of the world as well. By the way, where are you headed? Going directly for the Monster Lord's castle?"

"Oh, I don't think that'll be a good idea," Sylph suddenly said. "I've scanned the surface of this planet a bit by now. There are three major continents. The one in the south is where you're at now. It's small, and to be honest, a little boring. In the middle, we've got the biggest continent. From what I've seen on the _Balmung's_ radar, it has four big castles and a lot of towns and villages. North of that is this scary-looking island. It has this really big castle on it. I guess that's where the Monster _Lord_ is residing."

"Sounds like a great plan!" He replied. "Where's the next city?"

"Uhm…north of here, the biggest one on this continent. Further north is where you'll find the only port on this continent. If you're going to do this…I would suggest preparing in the city and heading for the middle continent next."

"Excellent strategic analysis Sylph!" Replied Johnson.

The Lamia rolled with her eyes. "It's better than no plan at all," she said. "When are you leaving?"

"Right now!" Replied the Sergeant, swinging his armored backpack over his shoulders. "Unless you've got a problem with that?"

She sighed again. "Of course not. I don't particularly care when you leave, as long as you've got plenty of supplies with you."

Well, he did. Lots of delicious, delicious MRE's. He could live of whatever the land had to offer him if and when he ran out of them. "Well then, try to follow me around as much as you like. If you want to see what a real UNSC Marine does, I'll show you what being a soldier's all about!" It occurred him to him that he never asked the beautiful lady her name. "By the way, what do I call you?"

She straightened up, raising her head somewhat. "Alipheese Fateburn," she said with no small measure of pride. "But I will allow you to call me Alice."

Alice? That didn't really seem to fit her. It seemed somewhat…well, a bit too cute. She had this badass Liminal image – Alice just didn't seem to fit with her, who looked like the type who could strike fear into the heart of an ordinary man.

"Alice?" He asked, questioningly. "I figured you'd want me to call you "ma'am".

She scowled. "Do you want me to strangle you?"

He laughed, even in the face of her tail coiling threateningly. "Course not. We got more important matters to attend to! You're not one of the boys, which means that instead of "Sir, yes Sir!" you can simply call me Johnson."

A little smirk played over her features. "Johnson…Johnson…yes, that name seems to fit you. Very well, Johnson. Let us be off then."

And so it was that Sergeant Major Avery Junior Johnson teamed up with the mysterious Lamia known as Alice. It wasn't long before the two of them ran into something familiar, however. They barely made it a couple of kilometers before the cheerful, blue shape of a little Slime Girl surged towards them.

The Sergeant, familiar with the happy nature of most Slime Girls, stopped in his tracks and gazed at the little Liminal. "Hang on young lady. We've got an important mission to accomplish! Best skip along!"

She cocked her viscous head sideways in a gesture of curiosity. "We? But you're all alone!"

"Wait, what?"

Johnson glanced around. No sign of the Lamia. Alice had completely disappeared.

"Hah…you look delicious," said the Slime Girl. "And I'm craving. Please let me suck on you!"

"But of course," Johnson said, not hesitating one moment. "Hang on a sec…there we go!"

He offered the hungry Slime Girl a fresh new cigar. He lit it for her and then knelt down, offering her the cigar. "Now I know this ain't normally that good for people. But this ought to keep you going."

The girl took a curious look at his cigar, then reached up and grabbed it. She placed it to her goo-like lips, then took a whiff.

Her eyes instantly widened and she made a sound of disgust. Watching a creature without physical lungs reel back from a single cigar inhalation was a bit strange, but it wasn't anything that Johnson hadn't seen before.

She coughed a few times, pouting. "Bwah! That's heavy!"

Now normally the Sergeant would never offer a cigar to a young Liminal like that. However, Slime Girls were a special case. Especially those with…cravings.

"There, that'll keep you going for a while," barked Johnson. "But you shouldn't approach strange men like that! Who knows what they might do to you!"

"Do?" She asked, surprised. "What _can_ they do? They're men! Men can't do anything!"

Johnson scowled. He knew of a few million dead boys who would gladly tell this little girl otherwise. Hmmph. He wouldn't let her rile him up. She was just a girl; she didn't know what she was saying. "Men can do all kinds of things. Now scurry along! I've got business to take care of!"

Looking very unhappy, the Slime Girl left. He watched her go, feeling like he had accidentally stumbled back into the twenty-first century, when Liminal species were first integrating in society.

Before he knew, Alice had reappeared.

"Interesting approach," she said with an expression that suggested it was anything but interesting.

"And where did you run off to?" Asked Johnson. "You weren't scared of a Slime Girl, were you?"

"I didn't _run_ anywhere!" Snapped Alice. "I just don't want other Monsters to see me."

The Sergeant merely sighed. He had a sinking feeling that she wasn't telling him the whole story. "Well, next time you can tell the little thing to hop along. I don't have time for every native we come across."

"Don't be so hasty," replied Alice. "I'm not your companion or ally. I'm just an observer. If you become a Monster's food, I'll just abandon you."

So this was what being a Spectre was all about? Man, Nihlus was more hardcore than he realized! "I get it," replied Johnson. "But don't you worry! If one of those Monsters looks at you funny, I'll still defend you! Because that's what being a soldier is all about!"

She rolled with her eyes. "Sure. I'm glad you understand. Now, more importantly, it's almost time to set up camp."

Johnson glanced at the sky. "What are you talking about?"

She cocked a silver eyebrow at him. "The sun's going down?"

He shrugged in response. "So?"

"You're planning on marching through the night?" Her tone was incredulous. It was obvious that she hadn't met many true men before.

"Of course I do!" Barked the Sergeant. "We don't need no lights to march on! Let the stars guide us –"

"That's actually pretty poetic," mused Alice.

" – in total darkness and chaos!" Finished Johnson, reciting one of his grandmother's favorite sayings.

Alice was not amused. "Just…just tell me if you have enough supplies."

"Course I do!" Shot back Johnson. He reached into his backpack and grabbed one of the MRE's. "Delicious goods. Ought to keep us both on our feet for twenty more hours! You know what? I'll prepare a little fire, let me show you what the UNSC's food is all about…"

And so it was that Sergeant-Spectre Johnson illuminated Alice on the proper application of an MRE. He was surprised to see she threw her part of the meal into the bonfire he lit beforehand. He was even more surprised to see her snap her fingers and incinerate the entirety of the bonfire, MRE portion included, in searing flames.

He stared at her with mild shock. That was something even _he_ hadn't seen before, and he had seen it all. "Not a fan of our MRE's?"

She stared at him, seething.

For the first time in a long time, the Sergeant actually felt threatened. He felt like he was a hair's breadth away from a bad ending. "Don't worry now. We'll find a way to supplement it."

" _Please_ ," hissed Alice, her eyes still blazing.

~0~

 **9:11 Hours, January 29th, (Military _Calendar_ ) / Artemis Tau Cluster,**

 **Onboard UNSC _Reach_**

It was time to go through the mission's details. The Master Chief stood in the ship's hangar bay, eyeing the Пума Infantery Fighting Vehicle. He wasn't going to use its expensive Heorot missiles. Their anti-jam packages, target acquisition sensors and self-strengthening kinetic penetrators were far too much overkill against a bunch of pirates. It would be like beating them to death with a club made out of credit chits; that money could be put to better use against hard targets.

Saren stood with his arms crossed, observing the IFV with keen interest. "I am not in the habit of complimenting human hardware, but…this is a fine piece of equipment."

"Thank you, Saren," replied Cortana, sounding heartfelt. "That is so considerate of you. Not many species compliment the UNSC on her large calibers."

"Heck yes ma'am!" Cried Sergeant Stacker while he and Dubbo loaded the Пума with spare ammo and supplies. "Last time I heard someone make an compensation joke, I punched them in the face!"

The Chief had to admit that the 70mm autocannon felt far superior to mass accelerator autocannons. There was something reassuring about watching depleted Uranium slugs tear through enemy armour and infantry.

"Even I can appreciate firepower when applied properly," continued the Spectre. "Let that be said about the UNSC, at the very least."

John shrugged. He would take what he could get. He waited until Miia, Dracosa and Kyuri were there, then started the briefing. "The enemy outpost is small, consisting mostly of pirates, mercenaries and an asari trooper. Prioritize the asari above the others."

"The atmosphere's hella dangerous, so keep your suits pressurized!" Yelled Sergeant Stacker when it was his cue. "Do not leave the Пума until you're within ten meters of the hostile outpost!"

"Can you pronounce that?" Miia quietly asked Draco, who shook her head without even trying.

"Rules of engagement are simple," continued the Chief. "All targets are hostiles, but check your fire. They might have hostages."

The crew called their acknowledgement, but there was one question. Kyuri tentatively raised her hand, still looking very much out of place. "Ehm…will miss Rachnera not accompany us?"

"She will not. Any further questions? Then gear up and get into the Пума."

"I still don't think that's how the pronounce it," Miia quietly muttered, speaking in a voice that was likely only meant for her own ears. Perhaps she had to rectify her views on her team; almost everybody had enhanced senses, including the Chief himself.

The team had been issued an order to ready up for close quarters combat. It would be messy, it would be dangerous. Shotguns and assault rifles for everyone, excluding Kyuri, who would likely dislocate her shoulder if she did that. Instead, she went in with two pistols and their first aid kit. Team support was as vital as fire support in the Chief's eyes.

Once they were ready, the squad filed into the IFV, whereupon Cortana aligned Foehammer's Pelican with its frame. Then, when the two vehicles were properly aligned, the Pelican's magnetic and physical attachment points firmly clasped the Пума.

" _This is Kilo-419. Pelican's prepped and ready for launch!"_

 _"_ Affirmative Kilo-419," said the Chief. The callsign felt nostalgic. One of the rare memories of Halo that didn't fill him with tension. "Take us down there."

At this point, it was only Kyuri who was unfamiliar with Pelican combat drops. She held on to the security braces on the Пума's inside with a deathgrip, looking very much like a frightened young girl.

The Chief wished he could give her a word of encouragement, but he had to focus on driving the vehicle. Besides; Miia was much better with words than he was.

Contrary to the Scorpion MBT, the driver of the Пума was placed at the front left of the vehicle. There, the Master Chief had access to regular system controls, as well as an almost 360 degree holographic readout and HUD. Next to him sat his co-driver, Saren in this case. He had access to the battle systems and the turret. The Пума's turret was fully automated to reduce casualties if it ever got shot off. It was outfitted with a camera nexus integrated into the chassis, allowing Saren to fire on every target he laid his eyes on.

"Alright boys, let me brief you on the Пума's controls," Cortana said. She paused when the Pelican was violently flung from the _Reach's_ hangar bay. The screams of Miia and Kyuri echoed from the back of the vehicle and she smiled. "The 70mm gun is fed from two belts of four-hundred rounds each, allowing you to swap feeds based on changing requirements, Saren. You have at your disposal a co-axial Heavy Machine Gun, .50 cal. Reliable and cheap, if you hit something with a .50 cal round fired from this baby, it _dies_. Often messily."

Saren inspected his instruments for a moment. "Of course."

"The automated turret is completely stabilized. Accuracy won't be diminished when the Chief takes evasive maneuvers," continued Cortana. "Chief, sync your HUD with the Пума's. The clusters of infra-red and optical cameras can switch between optical, night and thermographic vision. I'll take care of the LIDAR and RADAR, so no targets will sneak up on you."

The vehicle shook as Foehammer hit a pocket of heavy turbulence. Again, the two women in the back were taken by surprise and Saren rolled with his eyes.

" _Hitting Sharjila in five!"_ Yelled the Captain. " _Enemy base is two klicks to your east as you land. Happy hunting!"_

The Spartan experienced a second of freefall before the Пума slammed into the planet's surface. The vehicle's heavy suspension easily absorbed the blow and the Chief floored it the instant he felt the vehicle hit the ground.

With screeching wheels, the IFV blazed forwards.

Sharjila was a lot like Therum in that there were red, sandy plains and cliffs as far as the eye could see. Theoretically speaking, it was a good hiding spot for any privateers seeking to avoid the might of the Citadel Council or the UNSC.

However, the _Reach's_ scanners easily picked up the pirates' communication array. It didn't take Cortana long to filter out their communications and place a waypoint on the Chief's HUD.

"Enemy comm chatter. Their base of operations is likely up ahead," the Spartan then explained to his team. "Saren, ready the turret."

Saren's reply consisted out a jerking movement of his wrist, which undid the safety of the 70mm autocannon.

The Chief saw that there was a steep hill between the IFV and the source of the signal and decided to test if the Пума was as maneuverable as a normal Warthog was.

Surging towards the jagged, rocky hill, the Пума shook her crew in every direction. It sped up the side of the cracked hill, leaving a trail of shattered rocks and deep tire marks. The Chief slammed the brakes when the vehicle reached the top, then turned the Пума so that the sloped armour of its nose directly faced the enemy camp.

The instant the enemy came within view, Saren opened fire. They were approximately one hundred meters away from the privateers, which meant that the very first target hit with the autocannon simply ceased to exist when he was struck. A cloud of blood was all that was left of the pirate as the 70mm slug hit home.

Three more enemy footmobiles were turned to bloody smears by the time Saren's onslaught was noticed. The other guards came running towards their location, realized that they were being besieged by an armoured vehicle and immediately ran for cover.

The Master Chief gunned it, sending the Пума racing down the hill to cut them off. Saren didn't even need to be told what to do; the moment the vehicle closed in on the enemy, he booted up the co-axial machinegun and tore into the enemy's ranks with it. Stuck between their base and the armoured vehicle, the pirates quickly fell beneath a hail of .50 cal rounds.

John remained alert however, waiting to see if more hostiles showed up.

"Did we get them?" Miia's voice sounded from inside the Пума after a few seconds. "Did we win?"

"All targets neutralized," said Cortana. "Scans indicate the remainder of them are holed up in their…base."

Base was an overstatement. It was a long, tall structure with an overhang above the airlock. It looked like one of those prefab storage facilities the Citadel races and the UNSC used for frontier settlements until more permanent structures could be erected.

"Cortana, open up the door," ordered the Chief.

"Got it! The moment that door opens, get your squad inside. The atmosphere won't kill you, but neither will it do wonders for your health," she reminded him.

The Chief relayed those orders to his team, then hefted his shotgun. The semi-automatic, magazine-fed close quarters weapon would make short work of whatever defenses the enemy would use. It had shredded Brute power armour in the past and he seriously doubted that pirates from the Citadel Theatre had access to gear outclassing the Covenant.

But just for that occasion, he made sure to take an extra two magazines.

The outer hatch of the building's airlock opened and he waved his squad forwards. Saren made up their rear, ensuring that they wouldn't be ambushed by hostiles hiding in the hills.

When the door closed behind them, the VI running the airlock began its long sequence of equalizing the pressure.

"Hey Saren," Miia said, breaking the silence. "General Desolas is your brother, right? Are you sure you don't feel bad about hunting him down?"

"Do I feel _bad_?" Repeated Saren, his voice a mix between sarcasm and plain surprise.

The Chief suspected that the Lamia was about to regret her question and got his confirmation a second later.

"Don't doubt for a moment that the Aestus Initiative has been a thorn in the Hierarchy's side for decades. The Initiative has no political or religious agenda apart from their pro-turian mindstate, only an unhealthy obsession for _power_. And they have committed countless atrocities in their pursuit of that power. This isn't so much about catching Desolas by the frill as it is _annihilating_ the Initiative," explained the Spectre. His voice barely hid the rage he must have been feeling for his brother, though his attitude remained as composed as ever.

Which was to say, haughty and arrogant.

"The bad guy is your brother?" Kyuri asked, realizing that now for the first time. "And you don't care about having to fight him?"

Saren cast her a withering look. "Did you not just listen to what I said? This is not about personal feelings, this is about the greater good." He snorted. "Of course, I would not expect a walking biological weapon to know about the greater good."

"That's coming from a alien?" Miia instantly shot back, seeing the effect his words had on the Vampire. "Our "greater good" has been survival against things like you for decades now!"

"Survival that hinged on good relations with the Citadel species," growled back Saren.

"Enough!" Snapped the Chief. He couldn't use this, especially not now. "We have a mission to complete. If they're not helpful, keep your thoughts to yourself. Arterius, Lucifinae, acknowledge that order."

The Lamia worked her jaw. "Yes sir," she replied, glaring daggers at the turian.

"As if the _rabble_ over there," Saren gestured with his head at the other end of the airlock, "Hinges on a special forces approach."

"The mission hinges on _my_ approach," the Chief said in a low tone. "Is that unclear, _Saren_?"

The Spectre glared at him, contesting his authority. He maintained eye-contact for several tense seconds. Then, he said, "We shall see how the mission plays out."

"The airlock is ready," Cortana said, sounding a bit uneasy.

When she said that, the door control went from red to green. The Chief pocketed a pair of flashbangs. They used a magnesium-based charge to produce an intense flash and subsonic deflagration, producing a incapacitating shockwave. Its actual damage to targets was limited, but it served to blind and deafen unprotected organic targets, effectively stunning them for several key moments.

"Flashbangs goings out," he quietly advised his team.

Dracosa appeared antsy. She gripped her shotgun tightly, her yellow eyes focused on the airlock. She must have guessed what sort of scum they would encounter in the warehouse.

John hit the door control and rushed in. Even as he triggered the flashbangs and raised his hand to throw them, his mind raced to process the tactical situation.

His squad was about to enter a large room. Stacks upon stacks of metallic crates lined the warehouse, dividing it into aisles. The enemy consisted of turians, batarians and a handful of asari.

The flashbangs detonated before the aliens could get into position. Twin blasts of light detonated from amidst their position. In a single heartbeat, the pirates' formation was shattered.

The Chief saw that many of the aliens were holding their heads, screaming. Judging by the blood that came out of their ears, their eardrums had been ruptured. He moved in, his M90 at the ready. At this distance, he wouldn't need more than two shots. They didn't even see him coming as he aligned the shotgun and pulled the trigger.

The weapon kicked against his shoulder and a spray of hyperdense Tungsten-alloy pellets left his gun at a muzzle velocity of over sixteen-hundred feet per second. Methodically, he put a shot into the two turians and a batarian. A moment later, his boot descended upon the shredded remains of the aliens.

His motion tracker indicated movement to his left and he pivoted, just in time to see a krogan come bowling towards him.

The alien must have been taking hard cover behind the stacked crates, where it was protected from the worst of the flashbang.

John heard Miia shout something about him blocking her shot, but he didn't need her assistance here. He took two large steps towards the krogan, stepping into his dead zone, the so-called "inside" of a target's reach, where he could see the target's stomach and face. He brought his elbow up and slammed it against the krogan's face with enough force to crush his skull.

As the alien slumped to the ground, howling, the Chief leveled his shotgun and blew its head off.

By that point, Saren and Miia had taken the flanks of the warehouse and flushed out the rest of the pirates. One asari whirled from her cover and thrust her hand towards the Master Chief. Her triumphant expression upon seeing her Biotic attack hit home turned to disbelieve when she saw that her target was protected by an energy shield. Disbelieve became dismay when she realized just _what_ she attacked.

The Master Chief, no worse for wear, proceeded to put three shotgun shells into her lithe frame. The first tore through her Biotic barrier and bled through her shields. The second and third one smeared her across the floor.

Just like that, roughly thirty seconds after he first breached the warehouse, it was over. The remaining pirates came out of their hiding spots, dropping their guns and raising their arms. Two batarians and another turian.

Draco growled and stepped towards them, but the Chief clasped a hand on her shoulder and stopped her.

Then, he glared at the lot of them. He heard the stories of pirates preying upon vulnerable civilians, purging entire ships before stealing everything that wasn't bolted down. It was people like them, who thought the average human life could be measured in a few hundred credits, who kept the Attican Traverse from being the safe haven it was meant to be.

People like them who sacked Mindoir, killed Draco's family and triggered the Human-Batarian war.

He didn't need to accept their surrender. He wondered if their victims even _got_ to surrender.

The Master Chief pulled out his pistol. While Miia ordered the pirates to their knees, he marched towards the first pirate and pressed the Magnum's barrel against his forehead. This close, the protective "bubble" that most kinetic barriers formed wouldn't protect him.

"Chief?" Kyuri timidly asked. "What are you-?"

The magnum kicked against his palm when he pulled the trigger. He heard Kyuri gasp and Miia shout a protest. Draco, in turn, chuckled.

But John only had eyes for the alien, who slumped to the ground. Threat neutralized.

"Master Chief!" Shouted Miia. "They surrendered!"

"So what?" Shot back Saren.

John silently agreed with the Spectre. He dispatched of the second and third pirate the same way, then holstered his sidearm.

Kyrui stared at him with silent horror, while Miia looked like he had just slapped her in the face.

"Saren, make sure we're clear," he ordered the turian. "Draco, check the bodies for gear."

Saren nodded, then made his way to the upper floor. John watched him go, then sighed and turned towards his two other teammembers. "Remember. Some people are only out to make a quick profit," he told them. "To them, life is cheap. Every life we take, keeps others from having theirs taken."

Miia bit her lower lip, staring at the trio of pirates he just executed. She sighed and closed her eyes. Then, she nodded. "Alright. I get it. I forgot what we were dealing with. I won't doubt you again, Chief."

He saw that she understood. Kyuri, however, didn't.

"But…but they surrendered," she quietly said.

"Lieutenant, get a positive identification on Dahlia Dantius. Go assist Saren when you're done," ordered the Chief.

Miia quickly snapped off a salute, then left the two of them alone.

"They surrendered," agreed John. "And had they been lawful combatants, we would have accepted that. "

"They were pirates. They killed people, but…but they're people too!" Protested Kyuri. "Don't they deserve a trial or something like that?"

The Master Chief frowned. He had the feeling that this wasn't about the pirates. Not truly. "Either they stay here and escape, or we take them onboard the _Reach_. If it's the former, they might escape. More innocent people will die. If it's the latter, my team will be put at risk. What would you have done?"

She looked away. "I don't know…"

"It's not easy," he continued. "But there's no other way. Your sympathy is wasted on them."

"Okay…I understand, I guess. So what can I do in the meantime?" She asked.

John scanned the room again. Saren and Miia were clearing shop on the upper floor. It was no use sending her up there now. "Go help Dracosa. We'll stash the enemy gear on the IFV when we're done."

The consoles that Saren hacked into on the upper level only served to confirm Cortana's story. Apparently, Dahlia was the leader of a slaver organization. She and her band had been terrorizing the Artemis Tau Cluster for years now. She tried to blackmail Nassana Dantius for money, threatening to publish every last scrap of information that Nassana so carefully made disappear over the last century.

And then Nassana Dantius tried to turn him into her personal hitman. Was that how she thought about the Spartans? That they were easy to manipulate as long as you dangled the idea of civilians being endangered in front of them?

"You were lying before, you know?" Cortana suddenly told him over a private channel.

"About what?" Asked the Chief. He was seriously considering publishing Nassana's information regardless. The UNSC didn't need corrupt asari officials getting in their way.

"You said it wasn't easy. Except it was. For you, I mean."

"Nassana must think all Spartans are alike. Blindly charging in to protect the innocent," he quietly told her. If there was one characteristic about Cortana that he liked the most, it was how he could always confide in her. "But that's not remotely true."

In the backgroumd, he heard Dracosa yell, "Found her sir! You turned her to hamburger in the first engagement!"

The Chief had to scowl at her choice of words.

"I know it's not true," replied Cortana. "I wasn't there for you when you had to do it, but I know about all the times you've had to put the mission before the lives of innocent people. You've already made the choices that Saren associates with being a Spectre. But…it's still how the galaxy sees you. As superhuman warriors who live to protect the innocent. Nassana believed _you_ to be naïve and expected to capitalize on that."

"Look where it got her," growled John. "Take the files Dahlia mentioned. Publish them on the extranet. Make sure Ambassador Akuma knows about it."

Cortana winced, with good reason. The Elder Devil politicians on the Citadel were especially cutthroat. "Goodbye Nassana Dantius. You tried to double-cross a Spartan, and paid the price."

"Rendezvous in one minute," the Chief ordered his team. "Grab whatever you can find. We're done here."

~0~


End file.
